


an army of one

by gostorain



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:12:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 64,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3590757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gostorain/pseuds/gostorain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa is the resident badass, overachieving student at Polis Military Academy. Clarke is the visiting daughter of the academy commander who takes over the nurse's station for a little while. Corporal Woods requires medical attention, and who else is there but Clarke to patch her up? She is warmth and Lexa is ice, and if all else works out, Clarke will be the one to melt her.</p><p>or</p><p>the military academy au</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She was sitting in the waiting room, slowly bleeding to death from the cut on her left palm, and no one was around to help her.

 _This is how I die_ , thought Lexa,  _complete blood loss in an empty room because the nurse’s office is understaffed_. 

She squeezed the thick white rag on her hand a little tighter, applying pressure as little needles of pain shot up her arm. It was actually more red than white now, spotted and seeping with her sticky blood. She mentally cursed the idiot cadet that had slipped halfway down the rock wall and gotten his uniform stuck on a shard.

Of course she was the junior officer on training duty for the recruits’ first time across the Minefield. Of course she couldn’t just ignore the screams of the boy as he dangled upside down from halfway up the 50-foot rock wall (affectionately dubbed the "Wall of Terror”). Instead of just hanging there and waiting for help, he yelled and scrambled and wouldn’t stop moving, so in the process of trying to get his pants free from the wall without letting him fall to his death, Lexa’s hand was stabbed and cut on an unnaturally sharp rock.

She hadn’t realized it at the time—it wasn’t until she had gotten them both safely back to Earth when Anya, her commanding officer, pointed out the small river of blood flowing from her hand. Lexa just made a sound of annoyance, as if the cut was more of an inconvenience than an actual injury. She insisted she was fine, but the blood loss was a bit scary and if Lexa was being totally honest, she felt a little dizzy, which was why she didn’t complain as much when Anya ordered her to visit the nurse’s office.And that’s how she found herself sitting and waiting in an empty room, trying to staunch the bleeding with an old towel she found on the counter full of medical supplies when she came in.

It was simple really—all she needed was an antiseptic and a big bandaid and then she’d be on her way. 

She tilted her head back, resting it against the wall behind her. She was a little tired. A little light-headed, a little out of it. More than a little worried about the sheer volume of blood that was leaving her hand.

“Um, I’m sorry, but is this the nurse’s station?” 

The voice came from the door and Lexa looked up, not even trying to hide her annoyance. At the entrance stood a girl about her age, blonde, and very obviously not in her uniform. Lexa couldn’t remember the last time she saw someone walk around Polis wearing just jeans and a regular shirt. With a small grunt in confirmation, Lexa closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall again. She was too tired to deal with all these rule-breaking infants.

“You’re not up to code, private,” she said from her seat. She heard the girl enter the room.

“That’s probably because I’m not a private,” replied the voice from a few feet away. Lexa heard rustling and the sound of a cabinet being opened and closed.

“Then you _probably_ shouldn’t be here,” Lexa retorted. The girl completely ignored her statement.

Without a word, she walked over and knelt in front of Lexa, who in hearing her approach, peeked one eye open and glared as menacingly as she could. Before Lexa could react, the blonde gently took her injured hand and removed the rag. She bent over to her side, tipping a bottle of rubbing alcohol onto a big chunk of cotton. They were at eye level, and Lexa really looked at her. A face that resembled someone she knew. Bright blue eyes, a tiny little scar on the bridge of her nose, skin that was a nice mix of tan and pale, wavy blonde hair.

Not all too awful to look at. 

“What’re you doing?” Lexa questioned, a little worried considering some random person who wasn’t even a part of the academy was trying to treat her hand.

“I’m trying to keep you from dying of blood loss,” she said without looking up. She brought Lexa’s hand close to her. “This is gonna sting a lot.” She dabbed gently at the angry red slice on Lexa's palm with the cotton while blowing on it lightly. Lexa was about to scoff at the assumption that she couldn’t take the pain, but it quickly turned into a hiss. The alcohol burned like a small inferno in her hand, and Lexa squeezed her eyes shut.

 _My god that hurts like a_ —her own thoughts were interrupted by a small whine that escaped from her throat.

Clarke laughed a little at the sound, but continued on her gentle work. It wasn’t a laugh at Lexa, but moreso one of amusement, a light-hearted laugh that wasn’t at her expense but one that sounded like something the girl wanted to share. Lexa felt her cheeks burn from embarrassment. She didn’t squeak, she didn’t whine. After a heavy moment of silence, Lexa cleared her throat.

“Tell anyone I made that sound and I’ll kill you.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, captain,” said the girl in a very serious tone, but her small smirk said otherwise. 

“I’m not a captain,” Lexa replied. The girl just shrugged and continued her work. The silence resumed as both the cotton and the cut turned to a sated pink.

“You’re gonna need a few stitches,” the girl said as she pushed her hands off her knees to stand. She walked over to the trash to throw out the wad of cotton and retrieved a small needle and thread from the cupboard. As she approached Lexa again, the slightly alarmed patient held her non-injured hand up.

“If you’re going to stab a sharp object through my skin repeatedly, I’m going to need to know a little more about your medical background,” Lexa said as intimidatingly as she could. But for some reason, it sounded a bit like teasing, and the girl laughed again. It was nice and light, like cotton and her gentle hands.

“Alright, what do you want to know?” She said, putting the supplies down and leaning against the table opposite Lexa. Lexa pondered for a moment.

“Name. Education. Why are you here if you don’t go to Polis?” She started easy. The girl smiled a little.

“My name’s Clarke. I’m a pre-med student at Jaha across town. And I’m here to fix your hand,” she said with a smirk. _Clarke_ , Lexa thought. _Jaha. Avoidance of the last question._

“Oh, so you’re one of the Haha’s,” Lexa prodded. The military students at Polis Academy had a sort of rivalry with the nerds at Jaha University, despite having wildly different specialties. Polis destroyed them in sports, but they struggled to beat Jaha’s stellar academic record. Clarke rolled her eyes at the stupid name the Pole-heads used for her university.

“Watch it. You would’ve bled out if I didn’t come in and treat you. I basically saved your life,” Clarke said with that small smirk that Lexa was already getting used to.

“But really, why are you here?” Lexa said, dodging the reminder that she had been in very visible pain in front of a stranger. Clarke thought for a moment before answering.

“It’s kind of an interim thing. I’m here to help out with first aid for a while,” she replied, as she turned around and faced the supplies on the table again. There was obviously something more that she wasn’t sharing—Jaha’s class schedule was identical to theirs and school should be in session—but Lexa didn’t push. She knew the feeling. Clarke busied herself, sterilizing the needle and uncoiling the thread as she continued. 

“Just the easy stuff. Headaches, bruises, maybe some fractures,” she turned around to face Lexa again with the needle in hand, “life-threatening cuts.” She walked over and took a seat next to Lexa, pulling her hand onto her lap. Lexa blanched as the shiny, sharp object approached her skin.

“Would now be a bad time to tell you I hate needles?” Lexa practically whispered. She disliked doctors overall but reserved a special hate for shots and stitches. Clarke looked up at her and stared right into her eyes, trying to gauge if she was kidding or not. When she saw the seriousness and the tiny speck of fear, she smiled lightly at Lexa.

“Nope, perfect timing. I’m going to sew it closed with my right, so why don’t you hold onto my left arm. We’ll talk to keep you distracted, it’ll be easy,” Clarke said quietly. She guided Lexa’s other hand to her forearm. Lexa closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

She could jump out of planes, was better at hand-to-hand combat than her entire class, could disassemble and reassemble eight different types of guns in under 60 seconds, and was Polis’s reigning champion in archery (three years in a row, for the record)—her fear of teeny, tiny needles was completely irrational and she knew it, but she couldn’t help it. But Clarke’s warm, easy hands and the steadiness and strength of her forearm under Lexa’s clenching fingers anchored her to a feeling of safety.

“So since you asked me three questions, I get to ask you three,” Clarke said to the girl whose deep, dark green eyes had closed. Lexa nodded lightly. Clarke decided to time each stitch with a question. She estimated six across the length of the cut. 

“What year are you?” she asked as she dipped and pulled the needle once. Lexa squeezed her arm gently in response.

“Third,” Lexa said in a quiet, clipped tone.

“Rank?” Another dip and pull. _Two._

“E-4 Corporal.” Clarke’s needle paused. She knew that was an unnaturally high rank for an academy student, and a third year no less.

“Specialty?” Dip. Pull. _Three_. Lexa’s grip pulsed on her arm.

“Ground operations.” Clarke nodded, even though she knew Lexa couldn’t see with her eyes closed. She tried to be as gentle as she could, and found the girl next to her relaxing little by little.

“Alright, that’s my three. We can take turns asking now,” Clarke said. Lexa nodded. To be honest, she was getting a little lost in Clarke’s soft touches, in the warmth that seeped into her other hand from Clarke’s arm. The ease of questions and answers. She considered what she’d ask next.

“How long are you going to be here?” she asked. She tensed as she felt the needle enter and exit her skin. Clarke tugged lightly on the thread, pulling it along. 

“Already trying to get rid of me, huh?” Clarke teased. Lexa smiled slightly as Clarke continued. “As long as I’m needed.” Lexa noted the somber tone and how the gentle rhythm of Clarke’s motions faltered before answering. She knew the feeling that was radiating from Clarke. She was running from something. Locking it away and trying to look the other direction.

“Would I be wrong to peg you as the resident bad-ass corporal that takes no shit from anyone?” Clarke asked. Lexa smirked. Clarke was making her smile way too often, it was unnatural. She didn’t even feel the next stitch. _Five_. 

“No, you are not wrong,” she responded, finally opening her eyes. She looked straight at Clarke. “Especially not from mysterious interim nurses.” Their eyes met for a brief moment. Clarke was the first to look away, and Lexa could’ve sworn a light blush tinged her cheeks. She cleared her throat.

“Okay, last question,” Clarke said. Her tone was a bit more melancholy than before, and for some reason, Lexa felt a need to cheer her up.

“Aren’t you going to ask me for my name?” She felt a little spark of delight in her gut at the sight of Clarke blushing slightly again.

“I was just going to keep calling you Captain Whiney in my head,” Clarke retorted.

“It’s Lexa. And you promised to keep that a secret.” Clarke smiled and nodded. Lost in the smile that Lexa was a little proud to have produced, she didn’t realize Clarke had finished the last stitch and had already knotted it closed. Clarke brought the hand up close to her face to analyze her work.

“What’s the prognosis, doc? Give it to me straight,” Lexa whispered dramatically. Clarke let out another laugh, bright and warm. Lexa felt it fill the room to the brim. 

“I predict a full recovery, after rest and proper cleansing every morning and night. You’ll need to avoid using that hand as much as possible for the next two weeks,” Clarke listed. She glared at Lexa when she rolled her eyes a little.

“I mean it. Don’t go all ‘ _nothing in this world can hurt me_ ’ and ignore it. It’ll minimize scarring if you take care of it,” Clarke insisted seriously. It touched Lexa (just a little) that Clarke genuinely cared. It was then that she realized her other hand was still on Clarke’s arm. She quickly withdrew it and busied herself with examining her new stitches. Clarke stood up and brought her supplies back to the counter.

“How should I clean it and all that?” Lexa asked as she got up as well. She stretched her stiff legs and back from sitting tense for so long.

“Take some isopropyl and some cotton and wipe it clean every morning and night. It has to be cotton, fabric will be too harsh on the healing tissue. You’ll need some sort of disinfecting cream and scarring oil since the cut is on your palm and the skin there doesn’t heal as readily,” Clarke said, sounding very much like a doctor. Lexa just stood there and stared. Clarke saw the look on her face and sighed.

“You don’t have any of that stuff, do you?” Lexa shook her head. She didn’t have the time or patience for any of what Clarke just said, honestly.

“I bunk and share a single bathroom with eleven other people, Clarke,” she responded. One corner of Clarke’s mouth lifted and Lexa thought that one small movement could move mountains and start wars if Clarke so wished.

“Then I guess you’ll have to come here and visit me for wound care, as it is part of my first aid training,” Clarke said as she turned around to the medicine counter to clean up after herself. If she were to be honest, it was more to hide the full smile at the idea of the cutely serious corporal coming every morning and night to be taken care of. Lexa felt the heat rise up her neck.

“Well, orders are orders,” Lexa said as serious as she could. She straightened her dark-green uniform shirt and walked towards the door. Clarke turned to face her, a hip leaning against the ledge of the counter and arms crossed in front of her. Lexa stopped at the door and cleared her throat.

“Uh, thank you. For all that,” she said, lamely. She didn’t really show gratitude often, so she didn’t know how to express how truly grateful she was for Clarke’s understanding and gentleness. Clarke smiled, Lexa melted, and the natural order of the universe flipped on its head.

“You’re welcome,” Clarke said with more softness than Lexa had ever heard from another human being. She nodded once and turned on her heel to leave. She had important things to get to, and it wasn’t as hard as she expected to leave.

She would be back anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa fucks up her hand a little more, but it's okay because Clarke comes flying in to the rescue.
> 
> Lexa attempts to keep herself grounded.

Mornings were Lexa’s favorite time of day.

Correction, that time before sunrise, before dawn begins its ascent into the sky, when everything is still asleep but on the brink of waking up for the new day, when there is a tired glow of both the night sky and the streetlights after so many hours alone. That was Lexa’s favorite time.

She woke up before sunrise everyday—she had for as long as she could remember. She doesn’t even have to think twice about rising out of bed, pulling on her shorts and a hoodie. Anya used to say that she was always awake before everyone and everything else, but she was the last to leave her dreams. She laces up her running shoes, walks out the door, and stretches with her mind still a million miles away, floating high above the Earth among the stars where she usually found herself when she slept. She breathed in the cool, fresh, untouched air, feeling it fill her lungs and started off on a light jog away from the dorms.

This was the easiest part of Lexa’s day.

No orders to bark or orders to follow, no yelling, no reprimands, no one watching her, no one to watch, no _other people_ that Lexa had to think about. It was just her and the world awake to greet the sun and everyone else was sleeping. She was alone with her thoughts without having to think, if that made sense, and this was when Lexa found her peace. She was taught at much too young of an age that finding the quiet inside herself was the only way to balance the loudness around her.

She had established a route around campus. Around the perimeter of the drill fields to the far north side of the administration buildings, a lap around the rec center, past the Academy Commander’s house, and a burning sprint back to the dorms to work up a real sweat before the day began.

Her timing was always impeccable—every time she rounded the flagpole behind the Commander’s house, the senior on bugle duty would sound the reveille to wake the school at exactly 6AM. She would make it back to her room to shower and prepare for her morning classes with plenty of time to spare.

The run was always the same, save for the color of the leaves on the trees that lined the pavement and clothes she wore. But today, something was different as the sound of the bugle pierced the silence of the night.

A small light flicked on upstairs in the Academy Commander’s home.

Lexa had never seen anyone in the house besides Griffin herself and everyone knew she lived alone. The window shone like a lighthouse through the night, and Lexa felt herself stop and stare, stuck like a boat moored on the beach. Lexa wondered who sat in the light, in the room she once knew better than herself. The room that had a shaky floorboard near the window and a dent in the right wall from a 3rd grade experiment gone wrong and a closet that used to hide a little girl when the yelling downstairs was much too much. She wondered if it felt like home for them. She wondered if they could feel the joy and pain she had felt and left behind.

Breath only slightly heavy, Lexa looked up at the window, curiosity getting the better of her despite her affinity to push it aside.

A shadow passed through the light and paused for a split second, and just like that, Lexa was broken from her reverie. She turned around and jogged back onto the main road. She hadn’t thought about the old house in a long time, but it did not matter.

It was no longer her home anyway.

//

Clarke was woken up by the high blare of the reveille.

An actual _fucking_ reveille, just like in the movies.

She cracked her eyes open at the sound of the offending song and groaned at how dark it was outside. It was undoubtedly some ridiculously early hour.

She had an awful habit of not being able to go back to sleep once she woke up, so she cursed Polis for the hundredth time since she crossed the bridge over to this side of town and swung her legs off the bed. She blearily rubbed her eyes and propelled herself off her covers, willing herself to be even a little excited about the new day.

Her feet padded across the cold wooden floors towards her window, her steps and a quiet squeak of a shaky floorboard the only sound in her sleepy ears. She glared at the darkness outside for moment, then trudged to the bathroom. It was early, early, early but she wanted to leave her dreams. They were a jumble of colors and feelings that tired her out more than sleep should. They were as abstract as her paintings these days, as messy during the night as she felt during the day. When she had some extra time on her hands, she’d hole up somewhere and try to match her canvas and her dreams. But it always ended up shaded and dark and confused, Clarke feeling as lost after painting as she did before.

She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks.

So, despite the heaviness in her eyes and the fatigue in her bones, Clarke got ready for another day at the Academy. She dressed casually, figuring that hiding out in the nurse’s office the whole day wouldn’t require anything special.

She made her way downstairs and heard the sounds of her mother moving around in the kitchen. A small smile crept across her face at the thought of her mother making her breakfast.

“Am I going to have to call the fire department?” she said as she walked into the bright space. Her mother was already in her uniform, hair up and perfect and ready for the day. She scoffed at Clarke’s joke.

“You never complained about my cooking when you were a baby.” Abby was struggling over a pan of what Clarke guessed were eggs.

“That was before I was aware that real, edible food existed out in the world.” Clarke picked through a small pile of toast for a piece that was burnt completely black.

“I thought college was supposed to help you grow out of your teenage bratty stage,” Abby called from behind the refrigerator door. Clarke’s heart clenched for a moment at the thought of university, but she shook it off. She promised herself some time for things to blow over, and thinking about any of it was still too hard. _Eventually, eventually._

“Never, mom.” Abby just rolled her eyes. She pulled a sleeve back to check her watch and grunted at the time. Clarke sighed inwardly—her mom was always busy, always running somewhere else. She grabbed her bag from the chair beside Clarke and gave her daughter a quick, hard kiss on the head before rushing towards the door.

“Alright, goodbye, sweetie. Make sure you eat during meal times, be respectful to anyone with anything remotely shiny pinned to their chests, and go check in at the student center for a uniform,” Abby rattled off as she pulled her shoes on. Clarke opened her mouth to protest, but her mother made a sound to stop her before she could even take a breath.

“No buts. You’re going to be working at the academy for a while, so blending in means having a uniform like everyone else. My academy, my rules.”

Clarke groaned, but nodded. She had spent years making fun of the puke-green outfits with her friends, and now she was getting fitted for one. _Karma’s a bitch_.

“Love you!” Abby yelled, her goodbye stamped with the slam of the front door. Clarke sighed as she finished her breakfast, or at least whatever food was even slightly edible.

It was strange living in-house with her mother again. After three years of university and three summers filled with internships and trips with her new friends and avoiding being home with one parent instead of two, she had forgotten what it was like. She felt different, and not just because of the circumstances surrounding her return to under her mother’s roof. Clarke looked around from her seat at the kitchen bar counter.

The house was relatively old. Her mother had moved in after her promotion two years ago. She had called Clarke in the middle of her term, incredibly excited that she had received a permanent position as academy commander for a school that was relatively close to Clarke. It was the first time in a long time, the first time since her father died, that she had heard her mother sound that colorful, that vibrant and alive. She had brushed it off then, feigned and tried to reciprocate the enthusiasm, but the reality was that things were still strange and alien and too hard to fix when there was an empty chair at the dining table. Everything hurt too much, and the only way the mother and daughter could cope was to ignore everything that reminded them of the love they had lost.

Each other, basically.

Abby had settled in, Clarke saw her on occasion, but both Griffins were busy with their own lives to really invest in each other. At least that’s what they told themselves. They kept their distance to survive the wreckage he had left behind.

It wasn’t until Clarke had called her one night, broken down and sobbing, that their proximity was something they were thankful for.

Finn was dead. Raven was broken. And it was all Clarke’s fault.

In the end, she left. She ran, which was what she decided she was best at. Was excused from Jaha for a semester to get over whatever she had to get over and come back a whole person for the university to educate, or at least that was what she imagined the faculty had meant in their approval for a “leave of absence.” Her mother had taken her in, found her a job in the infirmary, and given Clarke the space she needed.

Abby was nothing but supportive when she brought Clarke to Polis for the first time.

“Just till all this blows over. Till you’re better,” she had said. But in reality, Clarke didn’t know if that was ever going to happen.

It’d be a challenge, one that she hadn’t been ready to face until very, very recently. She’d put herself back together again. She was Clarke Griffin, human being extraordinaire.

She sighed into her sad, burnt toast and pulled her phone from her pocket.

**_6 Messages from Raven Reyes_ **

**_2 Missed Calls from Raven Reyes_ **

**_1 New Voicemail from Raven Reyes_ **

Clarke immediately locked her phone and set it face down. She wasn’t ready to face that just yet.

//

Lexa was an idiot.

She was a creature of habit and had jumped into the shower as soon as she got back without a second thought. The second the cold water hit the still raw stitches in her hand, she nearly screamed.

She did her best to shower despite the pain, ignoring the uncomfortable pulling on her palm. When she reached for the towel, the white fabric stained pink.

“Fuck,” she muttered to herself as she examined her hand. Two of her stitches had broken and blood was seeping onto the towel at an alarming rate. She looked around the bathroom for something to stop it, and her eyes caught a role of duct tape sitting near the sink. (The pipe underneath was forever leaking and the girls had taken it upon themselves to stop the flooding.) Lexa pondered the merits of using the heavy-duty tape as a medical adhesive. Clarke would surely be upset, but Lexa didn’t find it in herself to really care. She shrugged her shoulders at no one and reached for it. Clarke would fix it after morning drills.

Five minutes later, she was dressed immaculately, ready for the day with a half-silver hand.

She made her way down to the fields where she would be training Polis’ newest students. She was only a junior, yes, but had been asked to join the senior instructors for the year.

She found her group of freshmen at Block 4, lounging around and chatting in small cliques, enjoying the morning’s fresh air and sunshine.

Her shrill whistle pierced the air.

Every single one of them jumped in surprise and turned around to face her.

“ _Form a single file line at attention,”_ she yelled. She paced around lazily as they all scrambled around each other.

“I expect you to be in this formation every morning before I even step outside.” She enunciated her words very clearly, making sure to express that there would be consequences otherwise with just her tone. She was feeling a little extra cranky this morning, probably because her hand was pulsing under all the tape and in the sun’s new heat. Lexa opened her mouth to explain how morning drills would proceed when she was interrupted.

“Is…is that duct tape?”

Lexa closed her eyes and waited a beat. She wanted the private to realize he had made a grave mistake. She’d have to use him as an example now, and frankly, she didn’t have enough energy to be terrifying. With a small breath, she turned to the boy and stared at him as menacingly as she could.

“What’s your name, cadet?”

“M-Murphy.”

“Did I ask you to comment on my hand?”

Lexa’s voice was dripping with quiet wrath. The boy immediately went red in the face and shook his head no.

“Use your words, private, since you seem to like them so much.”

“N-no,” he stammered. Lexa scoffed under her breath. The fresh batch would have to be taught everything from one to ten, as always.

“No, _what?_ ”

“No, corporal.”

“I don’t care if the sky is falling, you do not speak first to a commanding officer unless addressed directly. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes.”

 _For fuck’s sake_. “Yes, _what?_ ”

“Yes, corporal,” he all but shouted. Lexa stopped in front of the lanky boy and glared down menacingly at him.

“Now drop and give me 50.”

She heard him suck in a breath to object, but he had just enough brain cells to decide it was a bad idea. He fell to the ground and started with some pretty awful pushups. Lexa would have to order this kid to do pushups for the next three months to get him ready for the exam at the end of the year. With a very visible look of distaste on her face to scare the rest of the privates, she turned back and faced the whole troop.

“Have you been taught the PT run route around campus?” she yelled.

A chorus of “ _Yes, corporals”_ rang out in the field.

“Good. You have 40 minutes to run it twice.” Lexa blew her whistle and watched (with just a little amusement) as half of the freshman froze at her orders, baffled at the idea of running six miles, and the other half immediately took off at a breakneck pace.

As the privates scrambled down the path, Lincoln jogged up behind her, his own whistle jangling from his neck.

“I swear, you get off on scaring the shit out of them,” he said as he came to a stop next to her.

“There will probably be two or three kids who will run it under 40. It doesn’t matter if they can’t finish the course that fast, what matters is that they give everything they can to complete the orders given.”

“Whoa there, Commander, no need to give me the zen lesson. I’m a senior instructor,” he said, swinging his whistle at Lexa’s face. She batted it away and smiled just a little as it hit his cheek.

“Shut up, Lincoln, you know I hate that nickname. Now go away and stop bothering me. Don’t you have butterflies to chase somewhere?”

He stuck his tongue out at her and turned around, facing his own group of freshmen. Seeing that they had finished the 100 pushups he had assigned just a little while ago, he reverted into instructor mode.

“ _Did I say to stop?”_ he yelled from his spot. The terrified troop immediately dropped to the ground again and started once more.

Lincoln faced Lexa again, smiling so that no one else could see.

“Have I mentioned how much I love this part of being an upperclassman?”

Lexa rolled her eyes.

“Not in the last ten minutes.”

“Well, I do. And I know you do, too.” He took off with a light jog towards his group again. A few steps out, he turned and yelled over his shoulder.

“Oh, and I’m no medical expert, but I think there’s something wrong with your hand. You should get it checked out.”

Lexa resisted the urge to flick him off.

//

After ensuring that her freshmen were indeed running the PT route, (instead of lounging under some tree like Lincoln used to do), Lexa figured she had enough time to stop by the nurse’s office.

She found herself walking the bright halls towards the small office, growing a little more nervous with each step. She didn’t know why, but it was probably because she was wary of presenting a medical semi-professional with the mess she made that morning.

She stopped at the doorway and knocked quietly on the frame, not wanting to disturb the person inside (which, honestly, was ridiculous because Lexa was never quiet or _apologetic_ in any way).

“Over here,” called Clarke in the other room, “who is it?”

Lexa walked in and shut the door ( _quietly,_ of course) and made her way over to the small examination room Clarke’s voice was coming from.

“Uh, it’s Lexa? From yesterday? With the bleeding hand? And the stitches?” Lexa, for some reason, could not speak without her words sounding like a question. Self-assured, confident, _don’t-fuck-with-me_ Lexa felt nervous and fidgety and, honestly, a little sweaty about seeing her pretty blonde savior again. She rounded the corner and saw Clarke lounging on a rolling chair, phone in hand.

“Well hello, Lexa from yesterday with the bleeding hand and the stitches,” Clarke said with a small smile. She turned a little in her chair and leaned her head lazily against a hand braced on the cot.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?” Clarke asked, and Lexa resisted the urge to grin at how cute she was without even trying.

This was getting ridiculous. Lexa came here on a mission and Clarke was much too distracting. She cleared her throat.

“I was hoping you would take a look at my hand. I may have…done something to it,” Lexa responded in as even of a tone she could muster. Clarke’s eyed flicked down to her hand and widened immediately. Clarke stood up and took Lexa’s hand in hers, examining the morning’s awful patch-up job with an intimidating glare.

But Lexa could not acknowledge the anger in Clarke’s eyes because all she could feel was Clarke’s breaths tickling her fingertips. She could see how blue her eyes were, that small grey flecks peppered the rings of her irises. She could see the small scar on her nose with more clarity, that the skin was surprisingly new. Her eyes flicked down to Clarke’s lips, but she stopped herself before falling down that rabbit hole.

“I-you-but-did-…“ Clarke struggled to get her words out as she took in the mess before her. Lexa sighed.

“Yes, Clarke, it is duct tape. There was a bit of bleeding this morning and I had drill practice so I had to improvise.”

“Goddammit, you tore your stitches?” Clarke said, squinting her eyes accusingly at Lexa’s much too neutral face. Lexa huffed.

“I don’t just sit around doing nothing. I need my hands, I have things to do,” Lexa stated. She would not be slowed down because of something so small as a cut. (She tried to ignore the small voice in the back of her head that said it was a much bigger deal than she was letting on.)

Clarke stared at her for a few long moments, as if trying to look into Lexa’s mind through her eyes and figure her out. Without a word, she let go of her hand and walked to the small cabinet against the wall. Lexa told herself that the small throb in her hand was from the pain of the cut and not the immediate loss of warmth from Clarke.

Clarke rummaged through the items in the cabinet and returned to the cot with a massive roll of gauze and another roll of medical tape. She motioned for Lexa to sit on the paper lining the cot and sat on the chair next to it.

“Since you aren’t going to listen to my instructions and it’d be much worse if you tear your stitches any more than you already have, I’m just going to wrap your entire hand in gauze and tape. You are going to deal with having a club for a hand for a week or so, and you are not going to complain about it,” Clarke said. Lexa opened her mouth to protest, but was immediately cut off by a hard glare.

“No complaints,” Clarke emphasized. She proceeded to take Lexa’s hand and started peeling off the duct tape. The staccato sounds of the tape pulling off rang in the quiet room, and Lexa—silent, broody, _don’t-fuck-with-me_ Lexa—yearned to fill the silence with conversation like the day before. She mentally flipped through possible topics and questions she could bring up to the pretty girl who could make pulling duct tape off skin so gentle. But before she could even open her mouth, Clarke beat her to it.

“So how do I look?” Clarke asked without looking up. Lexa paused at the question, wondering if it was a trick, but when she really looked at how Clarke was dressed, she realized that the blonde was in the all-too-familiar uniform for Polis Academy.

“Like the rest of us,” Lexa replied. Technically, it was true because Clarke was wearing the school uniform, but Lexa was lying.

Clarke looked nothing like any of the people she’d seen at Polis.

Clarke made the dull green button-up and dark grey slacks look _damn good_. She was obviously not up to code, but it didn’t matter because all Lexa could process was how Clarke had left a few of her top buttons open so she could see the twin shadows of her collarbones and the smooth slope of her neck, and that her sleeves were rolled up to her forearms, showing a constellation of freckles and light hairs on fair skin. Her slacks and belt sat snugly on her hips. Her blonde hair wasn’t in the customary bun, but braided to one side with a few locks framing her pretty face.

“Well, that’s good then because some of you actually look pretty good in these prison clothes,” Clarke said with a sly smile and a pointed look. Lexa’s heart stuttered at the flirty words and fought the blush that was creeping up her neck.

But she had a point because their outfits were the color of vomit and it did nothing to improve anyone’s appearance.

“I should be offended by that, but yes, our uniforms could use a little pizzazz,” Lexa stated, plainly. She cringed internally at her embarrassing word usage but Clarke laughed suddenly, fast and loud, and Lexa felt her blood rush in her veins at the sound and suddenly wanted nothing more than to hear her laugh again.

Clarke looked back down at the hand as she began disinfecting the stitches, a small smile still on her face. When Lexa felt the sting of the alcohol, she hissed and Clarke quickly retracted the swab.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” she apologized. She dabbed again, more softly this time, and blew gently on the cut.

Lexa melted inside at the feeling of Clarke’s slow breaths, completely forgetting about the pain.

She marveled at how a person could be so gentle. It was a stark contrast to the sharp, square, harsh corners that people were cut into in the military. She wondered if she came off that way to Clarke.

The blonde waiting on her hand (literally) began wrapping her hand in gauze, methodically swathing in neat circles up her wrist and around her fingers.

“It’s fine, y’know.” Clarke looked up again at Lexa’s words.

“What?”

“The pain and all. You don’t have to be sorry.” Clarke blinked a few times as she processed Lexa’s delayed response.

“As a nurse, yes, I don’t have to be sorry. Especially since you did an awful job with self-care this morning,” Clarke answered as she finished wrapping and taped the end of the gauze.

“But,” she continued, “considering you’re my only friend so far in this godforsaken place, I can be sorry if I want to.”

Lexa’s face betrayed her in the form of a sheepish smile that was quickly answered by one of Clarke’s own.

“Thank you. Again,” Lexa said, getting off the cot and examining her new hand. (She had not taken her eyes off of Clarke the entire time.) She frowned at the fact that her left hand had been turned into nothing more than a club, but refrained from complaining as Clarke ordered earlier.

“Thank me after your hand’s all healed up,” the blonde said as she returned her supplies to the respective cabinets.

“I don’t want to keep you much longer,” Lexa lied as she tried to make her way to the door, but her feet refused to listen. She wanted to stay as long as she could without being weird. She wanted to talk with her, forget about her duties and orders and obligations and just be _Lexa_ with _Clarke_ in this room away from the mess of stress outside.

“Oh, you’re not keeping me from anything honestly. It’s been really slow around here. You’ve been my only case since I started,” Clarke said as she turned around and leaned again the counter.

The two girls stood at opposite ends of the small examination room, just looking at each other in a comfortable silence. Lexa mused about the concept of this beautiful girl in front of her as she wondered (hoped, wanted, wished) if Clarke was doing the same.

There was a physical warmth to the idea of Clarke and it was strange considering they had just met the day before. In just 24 hours, Clarke had become the embodiment of safety, of healing, of comfort and care.

Lexa could swear that there was something between them. A spark, a feeling, the possibility of _something_ existing.

But at the realization of what this feeling was, something switched inside of her. She could almost feel the coldness seeping methodically through her system in practiced, routine fashion.

This was not allowed. She could not do this.

She was Lexa and she had a plan and a decided life and walls that were walls for a reason. She’d rip off the band-aid before it even had a chance to stick.

She broke eye contact with Clarke and cleared her throat.

“When do you need me to come back?” Lexa asked in her usual, clipped tone.

Clarke was flustered for a split second at the sudden change in demeanor. Lexa imagined that the room had dropped several degrees at the emergence of this icier, terse version of herself. Clarke ran her fingers through her braid once as she pondered the question.

“Uh, that gauze should be good for about 36 hours, so maybe tomorrow night?”

Clarke sounded a lot less confident and self-assured in the face of this different, cold, professional Lexa.

“Alright. I’ll be here around 2100 hours.” Lexa stamped her statement with a curt nod, turned at her heel and practically marched out of the office.

Although it hurt to leave Clarke like that, with the coldness of Corporal Woods left in her wake, Lexa reminded herself that she had been taught that feelings are weakness when it came to the military lifestyle.

 _Head over heart_ , she heard her father say. Head over heart.

Clarke was invading both much too fast and much too easy, and it alarmed Lexa. She would not fall prey to these feelings. She would not lose herself in her feelings.

Not again.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke continues to make her way inside Lexa's head despite the corporal's every attempt to avoid it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: it has been brought to my attention that corporals aren't saluted to in real life (only officers or higher). please ignore this lapse of research on my part!

Lexa’s morning did not feel normal.

There was nothing normal about it. She felt off balance, like she was covering one eye or holding her breath. She felt like she was missing something important, tamping it down and keeping it silent as it whirled and flailed and thrashed inside her. It bothered her to no end.

Lexa ignored it.

Her run was distracted and unfocused—she nearly missed a turn on the route she knew better than herself, almost tripped twice, struggled to keep a consistent pace.

Her mind wandered listlessly as she jogged.

She stopped again in front of the Academy Commander’s home when the upstairs light flicked on. She continued when the shadow passed.

She ran and ran and ran.

There was something weighing heavily on her mind and it’s got golden hair and eyes like the sky.

She decided to keep going until she could think about something other than Clarke.

Lexa did not stop until the warning bell for morning drills.

//

As she rushed over to the fields, Anya stopped Lexa. She stood at attention and saluted to her superior officer, trying to get her labored breathing under control. She was not used to being late.

“Lexa, I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything, colonel.”

“One of the seniors has been out sick for the past few days, so the freshman troop in Block 9 have had very little training. Echo will be back tomorrow, but I can’t let her cadets fall this far behind. Since your group is coming along fine, I’ve asked Lincoln to babysit them for a day so you can get the newbie troop going,” Anya explained. There was no room for discussion or argument in the orders, so Lexa nodded once.

“Yes, colonel.” With a small smile, Anya squeezed Lexa’s shoulder once in a quiet expression of familiarity, and turned to leave.

Lexa sighed once at the thought of having to train all new cadets _again_. But she reminded herself that it was all part of the job, and that yelling at some idiot cadets might make her feel better.

She jogged over to Block 9 and blew her whistle to bring the cadets to attention. They scrambled to line up and salute. Lexa noted that the rush was not in fear, but in respect. Echo was doing a good job so far with her troop.

“My name is Corporal Woods and I will be your training officer for the day. Have you been taught the PT run route around campus?”

A strong chorus of “ _yes, corporal_ ” rang out in the field. Lexa was impressed.

“You have 40 minutes to run it twice,” she called. With the shrill blow of her whistle, the cadets took off at a brisk run towards the concrete paths.

The weather was nice and she had nothing else to do, so Lexa decided to follow them on the route and monitor their progress. She also wouldn’t mind running a little more to keep her mind off… _things_.

She jogged along, letting her thoughts wander once more. She urged them to loop and meander and avoid anything that had to do with gentle hands and blue eyes and the softest voice she’d ever heard.

She passed the Commander’s home for the third time that morning. Her eyes lingered on the upstairs window. She ran on.

Nothing of interest happened until they rounded the corner for the second half of the run when a lanky boy with brown hair fell to his knees, struggling for breath. Lexa had stopped to kick his ass back into gear when a girl came running back to help him.

“C’mon, Jasper, just three more measly miles,” Lexa heard the girl say to him as she tried to pull him onto his feet. Struggling against the attempted rescue, he whispered something to her, which immediately made her stop. Instead, she helped him back to the ground and asked what she could do to help.

Lexa huffed, knowing she’d need to intervene and beat the kid around a bit to push him on.

“What are you doing on the ground, cadet?” she barked. “Giving up is not an option.”

The boy was still gasping on all fours, eyes on the ground. The girl stood up and faced Lexa.

“Corporal, he has asthma. He’s having an attack and can’t breathe,” she explained.

“I do not care,” Lexa said, emphasizing each syllable. She looked down to sneer at the boy.

“If he can’t run a few miles without passing out, maybe he should not be in this program,” she hissed through her teeth.

(Sometimes, even Lexa hated the sound of her own voice.)

“It’s a medical condition, corporal, and with all due respect, he needs some space and air or he’s going to pass out,” the girl stated. Lexa stared at her for a few beats.

There was no disrespect laced in her words, nor contempt hidden in her eyes. She had a strong, sturdy gaze that showed confidence rather than dissent. She was protecting a friend, not trying to disobey orders, but sometimes the lines blurred and Lexa would have to be the one to teach her the difference.

As Lexa examined the girl, something niggled at the back of her head. A similarity here, a resemblance there, and-

_Ah._

Lexa blew her whistle and called the next group of runners passing by to a halt. She picked out the cadet that looked the least winded and pointed at them.

“You, private. Take him to the nurse’s office and make sure he’s taken care of. Come back and continue the run when you’re done,” Lexa ordered. The freshman returned a “ _yes, corporal_ ” and bent down to help Jasper to his feet. The two limped towards the building as Lexa tried to keep her heart from lurching at the thought of who was sitting inside the nurse’s office at the moment.

Lexa saw the girl turn to leave and stopped her with an upturned hand. She’d have to deal with this now.

“What’s your name, cadet?”

“Blake. Octavia Blake, corporal.” Lexa suppressed a small smirk when her guess was proven correct.

“I haven’t seen you before in this drill period,” Lexa questioned. She’d have to remember to bring it up with a certain someone later on.

“I transferred from Polis this semester, corporal.” Lexa examined Octavia a little closer. She was standing at attention, staring out into the distance as protocol states. She was impressed.

“What made you transfer, cadet?”

That made Octavia hesitate.

“May I speak freely, corporal?” Lexa nodded once.

“Being nerdy 24/7 just wasn’t for me. I didn’t fail, but I knew that I wasn’t where I’d be happiest and my best. I’m ready to be my best here in Polis,” Octavia stated.

Lexa looked at her thoughtfully, and nodded again. She laced her fingers behind her back and turned towards the fields.

“You will transfer to Block 3 under Corporal Lincoln Stone. He will be your new senior instructor,” Lexa ordered.

“But I was assigned to this troop,” Octavia rebutted. Lexa turned to glare at her.

“Did I ask you a question or give you an order?”

“Corporal-“

“I will not say it again, private.”

Octavia turned to leave, but Lexa stopped her with a cold hand and even colder eyes.

“Just because you are new from Jaha doesn’t mean you’re excused from an understanding of how things work around here. I am your superior officer. You do not correct me or order me around, especially in front of other low ranks. You do not have a voice when you are just a private. You do not have the right to ignore orders because you don’t like them. Do I make myself clear?” Lexa said. She did not have to yell. Her kind of anger was quiet and lethal, discrete and paralyzing.

Octavia’s face turned red, eyes down at the ground.

“Yes, corporal.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

//

Lexa eyed the mess hall, looking for a specific face. When she spotted him, she made her way over and dropped her food tray next to his.

“Your sister needs to learn to follow orders,” she said as she tucked her legs under the table.

Bellamy didn’t even look up from his food, just smirking as he shoved a fork of mac and cheese into his mouth.

“She’s new, give her some time.”

“I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

“No one talks about family around here.” The words were heavy, but true. The two soldiers-in-training acknowledged his honesty with a few beats of silence.

“So, she transferred from Jaha?”

“Yeah, she didn’t like it much over there. Add that to the fact that one of her best friends left school too and the scales tipped,” Bellamy explained between bites.

“Well, unless she learns to listen instead of opening her big Blake mouth like her brother, she’s going to have some trouble as a cadet.”

“Such warm words from the Commander,” Bellamy teased. Lexa frowned and flicked a forkful of her salad at him.

“I hate that nickname. And I hate you.”

“Oh, but you’ll hate me more when my troop tops yours at afternoon PT.”

“I’ve seen your little mess of rebels train. They’re no match for my block.”

As Bellamy opened his mouth to shoot yet another retort back at her, the drill bell rang, signaling the start of afternoon sessions. With his signature, yet always annoying smirk, he stood with his tray and pulled his worn-out cap on.

“It’ll be blood, Woods.”

//

Clarke kept getting lost and it was really starting to piss her off.

Whoever designed the campus had zero sympathy for visitors, or at least interim staff, because all of the buildings and the little soldier people standing around them looked identical.

She groaned as she spotted the same flagpole she had passed three times already. She spun around slowly, trying to find her bearings and spot _something_ that would point her towards the administrative building. She huffed and ran her hand through her hair.

“Clarke?”

She stopped at the sound of her name, but whipped around because she recognized the voice.

“Lexa?”

“Are you lost?” Lexa asked, taking a few steps towards her. Her eyes were marginally softer than the last Clarke had seen of them, concern and curiosity laced in the dark green.

Truth be told, she still felt a bit of whiplash because of how fast Lexa had done a complete 180 the night before.

One minute, Clarke was comfortable and chatty and casual and honestly, flirting a little bit since the first time in _forever_ (not forever, she knew exactly how long it had been), and the next, Lexa completely shut her out and acted like she couldn’t leave the room fast enough.

But there was no trace of _that_ Lexa in the girl that stood a few feet in front of her. This girl with a long, windblown braid and cheeks slightly pink from the heat seemed so far from the cold corporal she had caught a glimpse of the night before.

“Is it that obvious?” Clarke asked with an embarrassed laugh.

“It’s just…strange to see you outside instead of in the nurse’s office.”

“I’d say the same to you, corporal,” she said, flashing her 100-watt smile for good measure.

Lexa offered a tiny one in return—just a corner of her mouth lifting against the gravity of her usual impassive expression—and Clarke felt a pang in her chest, felt she understood why people once started wars for something (or someone) they believed was too beautiful to share.

They stood there for a few beats, just taking each other in among the sights and sounds of a much different backdrop than their last few meetings. The sun offered a new kind of lighting, one that illuminated and highlighted and clarified in a way that a light bulb indoors never could.

Clearing her throat suddenly, Lexa straightened as if she had ordered herself to attention.

“You’ll find TDC Hall down past the dorms to the left. Through the double doors, it’s a hard right and you’ll find your office at the end of the hall,” Lexa explained.

“Ah, I’ve been turning right at the dorms. Rookie error.”

“You should get yourself a map so you don’t get lost next time.”

As Lexa mentally slapped herself for sounding so awful despite her actual concern, Clarke wondered if that was the consideration or annoyance in Lexa speaking. Lexa always left her wondering, but she figured that knowing there was a hint of _something_ behind the callous front she put up was what sparked her interest.

She’d have to get used to the two sides of Lexa (though she had a feeling which was real and which was the mask).

“Well then, I’ll see you later tonight,” Lexa said, the formality in her battling awkwardly with the familiarity she wished to express. She turned and started towards the fields.

“Lexa!” Clarke called out suddenly. It had burst out of her without a second thought.

The brunette turned at the sound of her name.

“Thank you.”

It was nothing, just genuine gratitude, but it still made Lexa’s cheeks burn from the sincerity in Clarke’s voice. She looked away to hide the blush, choosing to answer with a curt nod.

(She worried that it’d come across as cold, but Lexa didn’t know any other way to exist.)

Clarke watched as she jogged towards a small group of students standing at attention, waiting for their training officer.

Truth be told, Clarke was a bit mesmerized by daytime Lexa.

She had only seen her in the shadowed fluorescent lighting of the indoors. Seeing her in her element, out in the sun and in the open, she was captivating, really. All windblown and worn by the hours of the day, her shirt spotless and smooth across her shoulders, her sleeves rolled up to her forearms.

She watched as Lexa yelled at the younger students, jogging with them around the field and giving instructions. The sun made her tan skin glow (she never realized how _tan_ her skin was) and long, dark braid shine as if her hair was plaited with bronze. She was-

“You might want to stop drooling, princess.”

She turned at the _ridiculous_ accusation, only to come face-to-face with someone much too familiar.

“ _Bellamy!_ ” She jumped and caught him in a huge hug. He spun her around, letting out a huge laugh and hugging her back tightly.

“Good to see you, Clarke.”

She pulled back to take a better look at him.

“Oh my god, it’s been forever. How are you?”

“Can’t complain, honestly. It’s my last year in this hell hole.”

“Don’t be like that, Octavia always tells me you love it here.”

Bellamy smiled a little.

“Well, she’s right. But how about you, princess? How’s it feel to be a traitor to your people?” Clarke slapped his shoulder, half because of the awful nickname she forgot about and half because he was still annoying as ever.

“I am no traitor, Bell. But in all seriousness, it’s been alright. No one’s threatened my life yet, so that’s a plus,” she said. Bellamy nodded slowly, but smirked a little when he saw something over her shoulder.

Turning halfway to see what he was looking at, she spotted Lexa staring at them from a distance. Caught red-handed, Lexa quickly turned and barked another order at a cadet that had fallen to the ground.

“You and Woods seem to have caught each other’s eye,” Bellamy teased as he nudged her. She reached to slap his shoulder again as he tried to duck away from her hand.

“Don’t be an ass. I treated her hand a few days ago. We’re friends,” she explained (mostly to him). She turned to face the fields again, spotting the brunette much too easily. For some reason, she kept going.

“She was nice, in a not very nice way. As if she doesn’t realize she’s nice and it happens when she isn’t paying attention. She’s funny too, but it’s like she doesn’t want people to know it.”

“Are we talking about the same girl?” Bellamy asked, quickly dodging another raised hand by Clarke.

“Hey, stop it,” he explained with a laugh, “it’s just, I don’t think I’ve ever heard that many positive words strung together about her.”

Clarke didn’t miss this time.

“Don’t be an ass.”

“I’m only partially kidding. But if she didn’t bite your head off right off the bat, it seems our little corporal has a soft spot for brainy blondes.”

“Well, it might just be because I stitched her hand closed and saved her life,” Clarke joked.

Bellamy paused at that and stared at her with a strange look in his eyes. With a small smirk, he eyed the fields again.

“If she let you within 10 feet of her with a needle, forget ‘soft spot,’ she must _really_ like you.”

Both of them expected another hit to follow his words, but Clarke was processing his words and wondering, wondering, wondering again. She cleared her throat.

“She mentioned her distaste for needles, but it wasn’t that big of a deal,” Clarke said, trying to convince him (and maybe herself, too).

“Clarke,” Bellamy stated, turning to her and putting his hands on her shoulders, “it’s a big deal.”

Seeing Clarke’s cheeks go red, he laughed, loud and delighted like a Blake, and turned to go to the fields as well.

“Don’t screw it up, kid. She’s a good one,” he called over his shoulder with another smile.

Despite the rise of embarrassment she felt, she answered with a smile of her own. Lexa was a good one.

She just had to make Lexa believe it.

//

Lexa was early.

She did everything she could to slow herself down, waste some time, maybe even be fashionably late, but the concept of “ _you are late unless you are early”_ was so burned into her that there was no avoiding it.

She strolled down the hallway, straying from her usual march with the lack of watchful eyes and the felling of a filling heart and fluttering gut.

She thought about seeing Clarke earlier that day. Thought about the fact that she was so easily able to spot her despite the flood of cadets making their way to the fields.

Her eyes were drawn like magnets to her blonde hair, to her face that glowed out in the sun.

She was something else entirely. A new species, a new feeling, a new hope that Lexa hadn’t felt in forever.

Their exchange had been nothing special—a casual exchange of words despite how conflicted Lexa was.

Something inside her wanted so much to let her guard down around Clarke, but every other fiber of her being was cemented with the training she had been born and bred into.

She wondered how she should approach Clarke. Should she just walk in, get her cut treated, and walk out? Should she say anything? Should she avoid eye contact?

Should she explain how she _could not_ allow Clarke to slip through the cracks?

She felt the cold creep through her veins again, and Lexa didn’t know whether it was a defense mechanism or from sheer practice alone.

(She reveled in the fact that the warmth she felt for Clarke could exist despite the ice that lived inside her.)

She stood in front of the door—so close her nose almost touched the wood—frozen by her nerves.

_This is nothing. You’re a goddamn soldier training for combat. For war._

She mentally chastised herself for her fear of simply breathing alongside a certain pretty girl.

She took a deep breath and grasped the door handle, ready to face this particular battle. But at the sound of two girls dissolving into laughter, she froze once more.

There were voices coming from inside.

One was very obviously Clarke’s. Lexa could recognize the soft, low timbre of her voice anywhere now. It was engraved in her DNA, sewn into her skin and branded in her bones. She had never heard anything like it and never would again.

But the other was harder to place. The only thing Lexa could characterize was the ease and familiarity in the tone. Other Voice was obviously very comfortable with Clarke and Lexa tried to ignore how irrationally angry that made her feel.

Ignoring all social construct (and the voice inside of her head), Lexa turned the doorknob abruptly and entered the room with little fanfare.

Lounging around on one of the cots were Clarke and Octavia.

Lexa took in their position, the two girls leaning against each other and the far wall, their legs tangled up and cheeks pink from laughter. Something unfamiliar and nasty bubbled up deep inside her.

Somehow, she managed to dislike the younger Blake even more.

Looking up and recognizing the figure at the door, Octavia immediately sprung to her feet and saluted. The contrast between her stiff posture and Clarke’s lazy lean was almost funny.

Clarke looked up from her spot on bed with a warm smile.

(It melted her.)

“Hey, Lexa.”

At the sound of the corporal’s first name used in such a familiar greeting, Octavia’s head whipped to Clarke in disbelief. It whipped even faster back to Lexa to see if she’d answer with some sort of verbal dismemberment.

Octavia was surprised to see nothing but ease in Lexa’s standing form.

“Hello, Clarke. I’m here for my 9 o’clock.” Clarke nodded slightly and wiggled herself off the cot. Octavia looked back and forth between the two of them, struggling to understand the situation.

She watched as Clarke moved across the room to the cabinets, so carefully and slowly as if sudden movements would scare off the girl at the door. Clarke kept her eyes down at her hands and did everything to keep them from trailing over to Lexa.

Clarke Griffin, who had made a professor cry by confronting her in front of a 300-person lecture their freshman year and had gotten two eye infections in high school because of those awful staring contests with Bellamy and Jasper, was avoiding eye contact.

This told Octavia half the story.

She watched Lexa’s eyes follow Clarke, glued to her every action. Something visibly melted the girl as soon as she walked in the room, and Octavia was pretty sure it wasn’t her. Lexa’s soft gaze was so different from the icy glare she had been pinned under just that morning, so different from the whispers and rumors she had heard in her first days at Polis about the stone cold legacy that is third-year Corporal Alexandra Woods.

That told Octavia how the story would end.

Knowing she was probably intruding on something personal and sensitive (Octavia didn’t do personal and sensitive, honestly), she embraced the role as the official best friend and decided to bow out peacefully.

“WELL,” she all but yelled to break the heavy silence (she tried not to smirk when both girls jumped slightly as they were broken out of the strange limbo they had fallen into), “it seems you have stuff to do, so I’ll just go.”

She fixed a pointed look at Clarke as she stood up, conveying her demands for details at a later time. Clarke tried to shrug like she had no idea what she meant, but Octavia saw the slight blush start to rise on her neck (just like it always does when she was embarrassed).

With a small roll of her eyes at how hopeless Clarke was in front of pretty girls, she made her way to the door. Carefully stepping around Lexa, she cleared her throat and ducked her head slightly.

“Corporal.”

Lexa didn’t even look away from Clarke. Just nodded and threw her a quiet “Blake.”

The click of the door behind Octavia resonated in the room, declaring to the two girls that they were alone.

With the windows all dark and the slight hum of the fluorescent lights and the overall silence in the halls that came with Polis after sunset, Lexa felt as if they were the only ones awake in the universe at that exact moment.

Maybe, just maybe, if she pretended that nothing else outside the little office existed, that it was just her and The Girl, then Lexa could allow herself a small pocket of time to allow herself something she wanted.

She wanted Clarke, and for just this one night, maybe she’d pretend she could have her.

But that would depend on if Clarke wanted her, too.

She shuffled at in her spot, unsure of what to do with herself. Anywhere else on campus, she’d feel at ease and in control, but it seemed that within those exact four walls, in Clarke’s little world inside Polis, she was at the mercy of the girl in front of her.

“Make yourself comfortable, Lexa,” Clarke said without turning around. She continued to rattle around with her supplies, pulling things out of cabinets and looking through drawers.

Considering she just needed new gauze for her hand and it really was something simple, Lexa wondered if Clarke was stalling because she was nervous.

(Lexa wondered if it was because Clarke felt something, too.)

(Lexa hoped.)

Lexa walked over to the single cot, her unsure steps such a contrast from her usual march. She took a seat, pulling herself so her back was against the wall. The rustling of the paper as she made herself comfortable drew Clarke’s eyes to Lexa, but her blues did not meet the warm greens that searched for some sign, that hoped to find something that would tell her not to give up.

Lexa sat there and fidgeted with the edges of the gauze on her hand.

“Octavia’s a friend of yours?” she asked, trying to fill the room with something other than the buzz of her nerves. Clarke turned and made her way over to her, a bottle of antiseptic in one hand and a fresh roll of gauze in the other.

“Yeah, we’ve been friends since we were little and went to Jaha together before she transferred. It’s actually nice to see another familiar face around here,” Clarke said as she sat on a small rolling chair. Lexa offered her nub of a hand, Clarke accepting it in her warm hands.

Warm hands. Lexa could feel them even through the layers and layers of tape.

Clarke began carefully unfurling the wrappings.

(She still hadn’t looked Lexa in the eyes.)

“I saw earlier that you know Bellamy, too.”

Clarke smiled at the mention of his name.

(It burned a hole in Lexa’s stomach.)

“Yeah, I was so happy to see him. I basically grew up with him and Octavia,” Clarke explained. The smile on her face was easy, one of familiarity. Lexa didn’t know if she should let it fuel the strange burn of envy in her chest.

“You care about him.”

Clarke’s hands froze on the gauze.

“I do, but he’s like a big brother to me. No more than that,” Clarke said, her tone quieter than before.

The burn in Lexa’s chest quickly dissolved into something that felt a little like remorse. She flexed her other hand nervously.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

A corner of Clarke’s mouth quirked up in response.

“Don’t be sorry,” Clarke said as she finally (finally) looked up, a curious look in her eyes matching Lexa’s gaze, “we’re all a little curious.”

Lexa felt heat spread to every cell in her body. She fought to keep the blush that she knew invariably rose from her chest down below her collar. _Calm, cool, collected in the face of what pushes against you._ Who knew her father’s words about combat would help with a blue-eyed, blonde-haired girl?

“I'm glad you at least have Octavia here,” Lexa said, the sincerity surprising both herself and Clarke.

“She’ll do well in Polis, I think,” Clarke said, continuing her work with Lexa’s hand. “She never really fit in across the river.”

“She’s got a lot to learn.”

“You know, she’s not that bad. Give her some time. I heard what happened this morning.”

Lexa frowned. The idea of Octavia bitching to Clarke about her did not sit well.

“She needs to learn to take orders, to learn respect if she’d going to do well here. You guys over at Jaha just speak your mind all the time.” Lexa could feel her annoyance rising despite her efforts. She felt defensive, which she did not like one bit. She could just imagine what Clarke thought of her.

Lexa had grown up knowing the power of orders, knowing the unspoken rule that you should only speak when spoken to and to honor hierarchy over everything else.

“She’s a good girl though. I trust her with everything,” Clarke offered quietly.

For some reason, that made Lexa dislike Octavia even more.

“When you’re studying under military teachings, you need to know the difference between emotions and detachment,” Lexa said, the words steeling her very soul. The words came tumbling out, and she realized that she was saying them to herself more than the girl sitting in front of her.

Clarke sat silent in front of her, wrapping the ends of her fresh gauze, slowly and thoughtfully.

“Emotions and detachment, Clarke. Head over heart,” Lexa stated, quietly. The words burned a trail all the way up from her lungs to her tongue. They were heavy, painful, hard to speak, but she believed them to be true.

“That sounds like an awfully bleak way to live.”

The plainness of Clarke’s words startled Lexa. She looked to Clarke, but she was still focused on her hand, taping the gauze at a snail’s pace, maybe even avoiding Lexa’s eyes.

“When you’re in the field, you don’t live, Clarke. You survive.”

They fell into silence again. Lexa struggled to push her heart back into the small box where it was usually kept.

She could not have feelings for someone who is so far from the grounded realm she grew up in.

Someone temporary and someone to lose.

Clarke finished with the wrappings, holding Lexa’s hand in hers for a moment before letting it down on her lap.

Lexa immediately stood to leave, wanting to end the agony of being near Clarke, wanting her, having the chance to _have_ her, and throwing it away.

She walked to the door with her hand against her chest (close enough so she could feel the thudding of her own heart).

“Lexa.”

She froze with a hand on the doorknob.

“Yes, Clarke,” she said, turning around. She looked Clarke straight in the eyes, the taste of her name still on her lips. Clarke shuffled on her feet, arms crossed in front of her.

“I think you deserve more than that. More than just surviving.” She paused. “I think we both do, don’t we?”

Lexa knew Clarke was speaking for both of them, speaking for herself.

She sighed, in a rare sign of honest weakness.

“Maybe we do.”

She turned to leave, turning the doorknob with a quiet click. She stopped before walking out the door.

“Good night, Clarke.”

Lexa walked out and down the hall, her footsteps echoing in the empty building.

It wasn’t until a while later, till Lexa was a way’s away from the nurse’s office when the dim lights of the room heard a quiet response.

“Good night, Lexa.”

//

Later that night, in the comfort of her own bed, Clarke picked up her cell phone and dialed a number.

“ _Clarke?_ ” the voice on the other end of the line whispered.

She sighed into her pillow, tears springing to the corners of her eyes.

“Raven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me at @ei8htballer on tumblr & twitter. yell & I will listen attentively.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke makes progress that leaves her confident, Lincoln is a sweetheart, and Lexa can't seem to keep herself together when a certain blonde is around.
> 
> things start happening, ya

It was sometime past 4 AM and Clarke couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t news to her, not being able to sleep, but tonight felt different.

She didn’t stay awake because of nightmares or the weighted feeling in her gut that always settled in when night came or because her pulse beat too loud in her ears.

She was awake because she felt lighter than she had in months.

//

_“Nice of you to drop a line, Griffin.”_

_“I know, Raven, I know. I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough, but I’m sorry.” Clarke’s throat started to burn, but she refused to cry to someone who had much more reason to._

_“I’m sorry for shutting you out. I’m sorry for leaving. I couldn’t,” she paused to take a breath, “I couldn’t handle it.”_

_Raven was silent for a few heavy beats._

_“It wasn’t very Christian of you, but I’ll forgive it since you called.”_

_“It was just too hard.”_

_“I know, babe.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“Don’t be.”_

_“I’m sorry.” It seemed to be the only thing Clarke could say. Tears fell freely down her cheeks, but they were the quiet kind. The kind that left no trace, no sign of sadness or grief or hurt anywhere else._

_“Clarke. I don’t want to hear those words anymore. I know you are, I am too, but being sorry won’t change anything.”_

_“When I heard they had to amputate your leg, it was like-it was like I couldn’t breathe. Finn died at the scene and I couldn’t think and then I heard you lost your leg and I couldn’t breathe.”_

_“Well you know what, Clarke?” Raven took a deep breath, as if gathering herself. “Life happens and life shits on you, but then you gotta get up and build yourself a brace and move on.”_

_Clarke was quiet._

_“There’s nothing to forgive. It was an accident.”_

_“I just, I couldn’t face you after it.”_

_“We both lost Finn. Then I lost a leg. Then I lost you, too.”_

_Clarke felt the words hit her square in the chest. She swallowed, trying to stop the crying because god, enough was enough._

_“I’m here now, I promise. And I’m sorry.”_

_“Remove those goddamn words from your vocabulary.” Clarke laughed despite Raven’s hard tone. She wiped her face with a palm as she sat up in bed, leaning against the wall._

_“God, Ray, you’re exactly the same.”_

_“Minus a leg. Did you know I lost like 35 pounds after the amputation? Who knew limbs weighed so much. I should start one of those weight loss blogs.” Clarke laughed despite the morbidity of it. They fell into another bout of quiet._

_“Are we…okay?” It was Raven’s turn to sigh._

_“It’s going to take a lot more than about a thousand ignored calls to get rid of me. I miss you, Griffin.”_

_“I miss you too.” Clarke smiled. She felt a weight lift from her shoulders, the worry and guilt she had carried for weeks fading away._

_“So how does it feel to be a traitor to your people?”_

_“I see you’ve talked to Bellamy.”_

_“He was always my favorite.”_

//

After Raven had hung up with an apology (she had a thermodynamics exam coming up) and a promise to text her the next day, Clarke realized she didn’t have a prayer to fall back asleep. Suddenly feeling like the room was much too small for comfort, she crept downstairs, wrapped herself in the big green blanket folded over the old couch, and went outside.

The night was clear and the air felt fresh in Clarke’s lungs.

She sat on one of the wooden rocking chairs that rested on the wide porch, tucking her legs under her and snuggling into the thick, warm blanket.

She thought about the call, how _happy_ she felt that she knew she had Raven again, how things were moving forward. It felt like progress. Like moving on.

So why couldn’t she sleep?

No, she knew why. She could hear the words still echoing from the night before.

“ _Head over heart._ ”

It had sounded like a reason, an explanation for why she was the way she was. Maybe even an apology for leaving Clarke confused all the time.

Her emotionless declaration that survival was their way of life had ignited something in Clarke that she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Someone like Lexa, someone so beautiful both inside and out, relinquishing themselves to a lifetime of living behind guarded walls was so unbelievably tragic to her.

She had stopped Lexa with words of courage and life, and then realized that she had said them for herself, too.

Imagine her surprise when she agreed with her.

Clarke sighed out into the night, for a whole mess of reasons. For feeling better and lighter than she had in forever, for being tired but not being able to sleep, for her utter confusion with the corporal who wouldn’t leave her thoughts.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, alone in the dark and swaddled like a newborn, but before she knew it, she saw the black of the night sky shift into a deep navy blue. Pursing her lips at the thought of her sleepless hours, she stood and made her way inside.

Her bed was warm and soft, much more so than she remembered.

She fell asleep instantly.

//

The early morning air was calm and crisp. Lexa relished the chill and how it spread through her lungs.

She ran hard through campus, doing everything she can to burn off the weight of the words from the night before.

Passing the commander’s home, she couldn’t keep her eyes from drifting to the upstairs window when she heard the reveille slice through the air.

It stayed dark. No light flicked on, no shadow passed.

Lexa wondered what changed.

//

Clarke woke from her sleep when the high rays of the sun broke through her window. She held a hand up and squinted through the brightness, very puzzled with the light filtering into the room.

It was the first time since she got to Polis that she slept past the stupid bugle at the crack of dawn.

She got up slowly, running a hand through her hair and realizing that she was still wrapped in the green blanket from last night. Folding it carefully, she set it at the foot of her bed and decided to make her way downstairs for some breakfast (or was it lunch?).

As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she was surprised to see her mother sitting at the dining table with a bowl of soup and a newspaper.

“Oh, I didn’t know you’d be home,” she said, walking to the fridge.

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead. And it’s a Saturday, which means I don’t have much to do around school.” Abby set her paper down. “Do you want some soup? There’s a pot on the stove.”

She rolled her eyes when Clarke paused.

“It’s from a can, Clarke, give me a break. We both know I can’t make soup.”

Clarke laughed at that. She went to the stove, but couldn’t get it to light. It ticked emptily.

“You have to kind of shove it and turn the knob just right,” her mom called from the table. Clarke shifted and pulled and pushed and, finally, just barely got it to ignite.

“My god, how old is this house?”

“I think someone on the board told me it was built around 1920,” her mom said as she began flipping through the newspaper again.

“Wow.”

“We’re meant to be grateful though. Apparently the academy commander before us fixed this place up a lot himself.”

“How long ago was that?” Clarke served herself a small bowl and took a seat next to Abby.

“About 6 years, I think? They had one or two interims before they settled on me.” Clarke nodded with the spoon in her hand. “It’s sad though,” her mom continued, “the commander before me died in an accident. His wife, too, who was the head of the Navy department here.”

“Oh, that’s awful.”

“Yeah, it really threw a wrench into the whole campus. They were really well respected and loved.” Clarke noticed the slight change in her mother’s tone.

“Don’t worry, mom. You’re doing a great job. Everyone thinks so,” she insisted. Abby smiled over the paper.

“Even though I doubt you know the school’s consensus, I appreciate your support,” her mom said with a chuckle. Clarke stuck her tongue out at her and Abby rolled her eyes yet again.

Clarke looked down at her bowl, a wide smile overtaking her lips. For the first time in a while, she felt like she could really be _happy_.

“Oh, honey, I forgot to tell you,” her mom said, interrupting her thoughts, “I’m leaving for an academy convention in Virginia tonight. I’ll be gone for a week.” Clarke groaned.

“You’re leaving me alone in this creepy old house?”

“Just don’t get any trouble. Do you hear me, Clarke? Absolutely zero.” Clarke waved a dismissive hand at her and Abby shot her a playful glare.

“Don’t you have work today?” her mom, eyeing the clock.

“Not till 3 o’clock. I got some time,” Clarke said through a mouthful of soup. Abby stood, taking her bowl and dropping it in the sink.

“Well, I have meetings till about 5, then I’ll be leaving straight for the airport,” she said as she walked over to Clarke and gave her a kiss on her hair. “Please make sure the house is still standing when I get back. Love you, sweetie.”

“Be safe,” Clarke called to her as she walked out of the kitchen. Abby waved a vague hand that mirrored Clarke’s usual answer to her mother’s orders. She heard the door open and click closed, and Clarke was alone once again.

She stirred her soup slowly, cheek resting on her hand, when suddenly, her phone buzzed. Swiping the screen open, she grumbled at the message.

 **you need to spill** _**.** _

Clarke would play dumb and play it convincingly, but Octavia wouldn’t let her go easily.

**I don’t know what you’re  
talking about**

**don’t lie**

When Clarke didn’t respond right away, she saw the three dots appear. She imagined Octavia furiously typing into her phone.

 **you need to tell me why Lexa**  
**was looking at you like you’re**  
**the cutest puppy in the world**  
**and she was petting you with**  
**her eyes**

Clarke felt the heat rise in her neck. She had very pointedly avoided looking at Lexa when she came in for fear of turning into a blushing little schoolgirl. She didn’t know Lexa had been looking at her like _that_. Still, she refused to give into Octavia.

**no she wasn’t, stop that**

**she was, I swear**

**she’s just a friend, O**

**Clarke**

**the losers around here call**  
**her The Commander**

 **you noticed how I actually**  
**capitalized it, right?**

 **she’s known for being**  
**terrifying**

**Lexa’s not terrifying, O**

She paused and thought for a moment.

**she’s a little tough, but  
she’s harmless**

**yes, yes she is. I know  
firsthand**

**and you thinking so just**  
**shows that she has the**  
**hots for you**

**I rest my case**

Clarke knew she wasn’t going to win this one. She decided to cut off any possibility of her giving in and spilling her guts to O. She would eventually, but not until she figured out what exactly her guts consisted of and whether Lexa’s guts were in similar condition.

**okay I’m busy, I have to get  
to work**

**what**

**is Lexa coming to visit you?**  
**are you guys going to play**  
**doctor? ;)**

**goodbye, Octavia**

**have fun. use protection!!!**

**but we WILL talk about  
** **this later**

Clarke smiled as she walked upstairs to get ready, both at her crazy best friend and the possibility of Lexa making an appearance.

She got ready and made her way to the nurse’s office faster than she ever had before.

//

Clarke spent the afternoon alone in the nurse’s office.

Lexa didn’t come to visit.

She admitted to herself that she wished she would.

//

Lexa lounged around her bunk, bored out of her mind.

Saturdays were always slow. It was their one free day, so all the students usually hung out with their friends or went into town for activities or whatever. Naturally, Lexa didn’t partake in said activities, so she was alone.

Normally, it didn’t bother her. She’d go to train in the empty gyms or go for a jog or get ahead on assignments for the next week, but something was distracting her.

She went for a walk that afternoon through campus. Lexa circled lazily around the buildings, trying to enjoy the warm, sunny day and keep her mind from wandering.

(It did not wander though. It was not lost. It always gravitated towards a single thought.)

Her eyes kept drifting to the administration building. Where she knew the nurse’s office was.

She must have passed the building four times, wondering if the station was staffed on a Saturday afternoon.

She stood at the front doors, both trying to convince herself to go in and berating herself for being so childish, so distracted, so foolish. She was training to be a soldier, for Christ’s sake, and she couldn’t stop thinking about…something.

She clenched her fists. She was tired of pushing it away. Ignoring it and making herself suffer.

Clarke. Clarke was on her mind and she couldn’t get her out.

She admitted to herself that the blonde was driving her mad. She sighed. It felt good to acknowledge it. Of course it was totally irresponsible because Clarke was beautiful and different and so _temporary_ , but the way she made her heart beat and head swim felt too good to be bad for her.

She was like a drug. And Lexa wanted more.

She fell asleep to the musings of golden hair and eyes so impossibly blue that she wondered if an entire sky existed behind them. Her thoughts drifted lower, lower until she realized she was (finally) dreaming, and only then did she allow herself to imagine how Clarke’s lips would feel against her own.

//

When Clarke unlocked her front door and walked into the dark, empty house, she knew immediately that she wouldn’t be able to sleep that night.

That’s how she found herself sitting in the rocking chair again, looking at the sky for hours after the sun set.

She rocked back and forth in the chair, memorizing the sounds of the creaking wood.

It sang her to sleep, her green blanket wrapped tight around her.

//

The air was light and cool when Lexa stepped outside.

After a night of dreaming dark starry skies and even starrier blue eyes, she was looking forward to clearing her head with heavy breaths and pounding feet.

The run was the easiest in days. She felt free, light as the leaves that had begun their slow descent from the tiring trees. Autumn was just around the corner, and it announced its impending arrival in small ways—how the air nipped a little colder than usual, how she could see her breath in little puffs of vapor as she jogged, how the sun was a little slower in its ascent into the sky. Pulling her hands into the sleeves of her favorite sweater, she pushed off the concrete at a steady rhythm as she made her way around campus, reveling in the freshness of the cool morning.

Spotting the flagpole in the distance, she wondered if the mystery light would flick on in the house that morning. Lexa grimaced at her inability to move on from the home, the room that used to be hers. She silently urged herself to run past it without a second look. _It doesn’t matter to you anymore_.

She rounded the home, hearing the reveille wake the grounds, and promptly failed at keeping her eyes on the road in front of her. Her eyes peeked over to the house, but instead of rising to the upstairs window, they caught a flash of green and gold on the porch.

There was a girl sleeping on her dad’s old rocking chair.

Her heart lurched suddenly, her breath caught and almost in slow motion, she felt herself lose her footing. With a little yelp, she fell forward, the earth coming up to meet her much faster than anticipated.

She would deny it to her grave, but Lexa Woods tripped on flat ground and promptly blacked out from the impact.

She came to just a few seconds later. Cracking her eyes open, she felt her head reel at what she saw (although it could’ve been because she hit her head pretty hard).

Lexa tried to blink through the stars that had somehow made their way from her dreams to her vision—Clarke was crouched over her with anxious eyes. Sweet, beautiful Clarke who looked almost angelic with her messy hair and old pajamas.

“Lexa,” she gasped, “are you alright?”

Lexa tried to open her mouth to assure her she was in perfect condition, but all that came out was a low groan.

Clarke reached out and held a light hand behind Lexa’s head as she tried to sit up.

“Slowly, slowly. Careful, I think you hit your head pretty hard.” Lexa braced herself for dizziness and pain, but breathed in relief when none came.

“I think I’m alright, Clarke.” She looked to Clarke to insist she was completely fine and completely embarrassed, but the blonde was too busy examining her from top to bottom for any injuries. (Lexa’s head started to spin again but she doubted it was from the fall.)

“Lexa,” Clarke sighed, “would you please take a look at your knee.”

Puzzled, she looked down at her legs and barely stifled a gasp.

Her right knee was scuffed and bleeding profusely. Seeing it made her brain start to register the stinging pain and she hissed at the sudden onset of it.

“Come on, let’s get you to the nurse’s office,” Clarke said, standing to help Lexa up. “I can clean you up.”

Lexa groaned slightly as she got up, but said nothing when Clarke wrapped an arm across her back and pulled Lexa’s over her own shoulder. They limped towards the large brick building in the distance, both trying to ease the weight for the other in the strange embrace that had them pressed very closely together.

Lexa told herself she was feeling warm because of her run. (It was a lie.)

When they reached the steps, she discovered that bending her right knee was quite painful. As they took them one at a time, Clarke looked at Lexa.

“How’s your leg?”

“Hurts.” Lexa knew pain, was old friends with it. The physical kind was nothing compared to its counterparts. She could deal with it.

“Just a little farther, Lexa,” Clarke whispered. Lexa tried not to melt when the warmth breath of her words tickled her cheek. She cleared her throat.

“It seems you’ll have to come to my rescue again.” Lexa tried to keep the strain out of her voice.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Clarke said as they reached the front doors. She faced Lexa with a smirk. “It gives me a reason to see you.”

Lexa melted.

//

Clarke found herself rummaging nervously through the cabinets in search of some supplies yet again. Despite the fact that it was just a little after 6 AM, she was in good spirits.

Lexa was sitting on the small cot behind her.

Yes, she was bleeding profusely from her knee and this was the second time in a week that Clarke was tasked with mending an injured limb for the corporal, but-

she just looked so goddamn _cute_ in her clothes. She was in an old blue crewneck with “NAVY” in big block letters across the chest and a pair of small running shorts. Her hair was up in a ponytail and Clarke could see the dark green in her irises and little curls of hair on either side of her forehead. _Focus, Clarke, my god._

Cotton and rubbing alcohol in hand, she turned and took a seat at Lexa’s knee.

“Déjà vu,” Lexa said. Clarke smiled.

“How’s your hand? Is it okay? Did you fall on it?” she asked, gesturing to Lexa’s still clubbed hand.

“No, it’s fine. I think I used my head to catch myself instead.” Clarke knitted her eyebrows together. She grabbed a penlight from the cup on the counter next to her and stood in front of Lexa.

“Okay, I’m going to shine this in your eye to check if you have a concussion. Let me know if it bothers you too much.” Lexa nodded slowly, her face the very picture of calm. Clarke leaned forward and put a soft hand under Lexa’s chin, pulling her closer for examination.

She clicked the penlight on and shined it into Lexa’s right eye. She looked closely and sighed in relief when she spotted her pupil contract in the brightness. She quickly switched to the other eye and watched as the left pupil shrunk in unison, the deep jade of the irises widening around them. They were so bright, and she could even see flecks of grey speckled throughout the rings.

She lowered the light slightly, in a trance by the wide, soft eyes that regarded her so gently. Before Clarke could stop herself, her eyes accidentally flicked down to Lexa’s lips just once. (She didn’t see Lexa swallow nervously.)

It was then she realized how close their faces were. She clicked the light off suddenly and pulled back, afraid that she had overstepped with her. The brunette looked equally dazed as Clarke stepped away and took a seat.

“Eh, you don’t have a concussion.” Clarke was just proud she didn’t stutter, even though her heart was sputtering like a failing engine. Lexa paused.

“That would’ve been annoying.” Clarke smiled despite herself.

“You’re awfully nonchalant about injuries, corporal.”

“Good thing I have an excellent medic then.” Clarke rolled her eyes playfully as she started to disinfect Lexa’s knee. She felt her tense from the sting, so she blew gently on the scrape to make it more bearable. (She didn’t see the blush rise on Lexa’s face.)

Noticing something strange about the way it was bleeding, Clarke took a closer look at the knee. She hummed low in thought.

“What is it?” Lexa’s deadpan question gave away nothing. When Clarke was paused to figure out the best way to put it into words, Lexa guessed correctly.

“I need stitches, don’t I?”

Noticing the immediate worry in Lexa’s voice, Clarke thought for a moment.

“No, no, you don’t need them. It’s just, this one’s pretty deep and I’m afraid it’s going to get infected.” She stood and threw the cotton out, replaced the bottle of rubbing alcohol. “We can work around it. I’m going to treat it now, but I need you to come in later this afternoon.”

Clarke wasn’t going to take any chances, especially considering how little Lexa seemed to care about her injuries.

“I have a senior instructor meeting and drill training,” Lexa objected, but even Clarke knew it was weak excuse.

“Lexa, I need to treat them.”

“I have no idea when I’ll be done.”

Clarke thought again. She’d blame it on not getting enough sleep later, but she was feeling brave and brash and confident that she was chipping away at the corporal’s steely exterior.

“Okay, well I don’t have anything pressing on my schedule, so why don’t you give me a call later? Or text me or whatever.” She mentally grimaced at how _high school_ she sounded near the end. Lexa considered for a few beats. Right when Clarke began to fear that she would refuse, she looked up at her.

“That should work.” Clarke stifled a sigh in relief.

“Give me your phone, I’ll put my number in.” Lexa looked sheepishly at her.

“I don’t have it on me when I run in the mornings,” she said apologetically.

Clarke pursed her lips and looked around the room for an idea. She spotted a marker. With an inquisitive look, she grabbed it and turned to Lexa.

“You salute with your right hand, right?” she asked. Lexa nodded.

Before she could overthink it, Clarke reached for Lexa’s left and took the bandaged hand in her own. She wrote her number on the gauze, thick and clear on the palm.

“There,” she said, returning Lexa’s hand to her and capping the marker, “that way you can’t say you lost it or forgot about me.” Lexa smiled.

“I would never.”

//

Lexa was doing her best to run like a normal human being during drill training, but her bandaged knee was making it exceedingly difficult (and very painful). She felt each step reverberate up her leg and into the cut. She was running much slower than usual and it was bothering her immensely.

“Hey, Lexa,” a voice called behind her. She scowled when she heard Lincoln’s familiar strides catch up to her.

She grunted her usual hello. He smiled and they fell into a comfortable rhythm. Suddenly, spying something very strange and alien on her bandaged hand, he laughed, low and loud.

“Miss Woods, is that a phone number I see?” Lexa was grateful they were running, or he would’ve seen her flush embarrassingly.

“No.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Mind your own business.” With inquisitive eyes, he stopped teasing and left it alone. For about 30 seconds.

“Whose number is it?”

“No one’s.” He smiled evilly.

“I thought it wasn’t a phone number.”

“I swear, Lincoln,” she breathed menacingly. He raised his hands slightly in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay, I’ll drop it.” The smile didn’t leave his face though. He changed the subject as they made a turn around the dorms.

“So I saw you appointed a new cadet to my block,” he said, looking straight forward.

“Oh yeah, I did.”

“Without asking me.” Lexa rolled her eyes. She knew he wasn’t really mad.

“I don’t just do things for no reason, Lincoln. I figured she’d be best under your instruction,” she explained. She pursed her lips tightly as they reached the final stretch of the run. It was getting harder to ignore the burn in her knee and the low burn of anticipation to use the number scrawled on her hand.

“Huh.” Lexa heard something strange in his tone.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” Lexa pressed.

“It’s just,” he paused, “she’s _really_ pretty.” A small smile lit his face. “Like ridiculously pretty.” Lexa rolled her eyes and dropped her head in amusement.

“Oh my god, Lincoln.”

“Lexa, she’s beautiful,” he said reverently.

“Okay, I’m done with this conversation” she said, speeding up to a sprint as she saw their finish point in the distance. She used the pain to focus her mind far and away from the face that emerged when Lincoln said the word “beautiful.” Lexa heard him laugh behind her.

“Let me know how it goes with Mystery Number!” he called.

She raised a hand over her shoulder to flick him off.

//

Clarke tried to tell herself that she wasn’t waiting for anything special that afternoon, but she didn’t let her phone out of her sight all day.

She urged herself to ignore the excitement she felt in her gut and fought to keep herself busy as the hours ticked by. It didn’t help that the nurse’s station was agonizingly slow—it seemed everyone at Polis (minus a certain corporal) was good at keep their bodies intact on a weekend.

But eventually, much like how the universe works and much later when she had almost forgotten about it completely, her phone buzzed quietly, notifying her of a new text message.

It was almost 9 o’clock at night.

She scrambled embarrassingly for her phone and opened it immediately, ignoring all care and desire to not seem over the moon that Lexa had finally texted her.

 **Hello, Clarke. I’m sorry it took**  
**so long to contact you. I just**  
**finished training and the**  
**meeting took forever. If it is**  
**alright with you, I will be free**  
**in about 30 minutes. I have to**  
**shower and get cleaned up.**

Of course she was perfectly eloquent and grammatically correct even in her messages. She opened the text and readied her thumbs to reply when she received another with a buzz.

**This is Lexa, by the way.**

Clarke laughed. How Lexa would think Clarke wouldn’t recognize her right away was beyond her. She tapped out a response.

 **haha, i figured. i’m totally**  
**fine with that. administration**  
**building is closed though, so**  
**d'you mind just coming by**  
**where i live? i have all the**  
**stuff with me.**

Clarke paused, wondering if asking Lexa to come to the house was too personal. It would also give away exactly who she was—Academy Commander Abby Griffin’s daughter. She wondered if it was something to worry about, something that would affect Lexa’s opinion of her. But she had nowhere else to treat her and the buildings were all closed since it was a Sunday night and honestly, she would probably find out eventually because Clarke was never good at keeping an air of mystery (which seemed to be Lexa’s specialty), so she told herself to ignore the butterflies. Before she could talk herself out of it, she sent the text with a whoosh.

Everything between her and Lexa was coming to a head anyway, so she figured she might as well share the pertinent little piece of information. How Lexa would take it, Clarke had no idea. She wondered why Lexa hadn’t questioned how Clarke had been present when she tripped that morning. Clarke had woken from her light slumber when she heard a quiet yelp and a thud from her seat on the porch. Scrambling up, Clarke had seen a girl in a pile on the ground and immediately recognized Lexa. She didn’t think twice before rushing to her side. She wondered if Lexa had bumped her head harder than she thought.

She spent a few agonizing moments waiting for a response, phone in hand and fingers over her lips. It buzzed again.

**That is fine. Where can I  
find you?**

Clarke slowly typed out a reply. _Now or never._

**the big house by the flagpole,  
can’t miss it**

//

Lexa walked out of the dorms, plaiting her wet hair into a braid and shivering slightly in the cold night breeze. Limping slightly down the stairs, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the last text from Clarke that had come in when she was in the shower.

**the big house by the flagpole,  
can’t miss it**

Lexa froze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I left you guys with such an awful cliffhanger, but the next parts are crucial and they made this chapter too long! (I'm also not too sorry because, well, y'know angst and interest and all.)
> 
> I already have most of the next chapter ready, so keep your eye bananas peeled!
> 
> find me @ei8htballer on tumblr & twitter. yell & I will listen attentively.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all the dirty laundry is aired and Lexa finally stops fighting it. Clarke is freed and the night is young.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is at least 2k longer than usual, but I didn't have the heart to cut it. consider it payback for the last chapter's cliffhanger!

Lexa stood frozen on the sidewalk, the light from her phone illuminating her face in the darkness.

**the big house by the flagpole,  
can’t miss it**

She read the text for the fifth time to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

The house. The house by the flagpole.

She felt her legs start to walk down the path on their own. Lip between her teeth, the gears started churning and her mind caved in on itself as she tried to put the pieces together.

The words of the text message bounced around in her head with every step. It felt like a confession almost, like a secret that Clarke was finally sharing with her.

She was living in the academy commander’s home.

The house that she had forced herself to ignore and forget for the last six years, to keep in the past and disregard for fear that everything would come flooding back.

But it was just Clarke. She was still the girl who had treated her hand with reverent, gentle hands and had flipped Lexa’s heart inside out.

Lexa suddenly realized why Clarke had looked so familiar that day—she was Abby Griffin’s daughter. It was alarmingly clear, the resemblance, when Lexa thought about it. She berated herself for not recognizing it before. Clarke must have left Jaha to stay with her mother in the house while she worked-

Lexa stopped in her tracks.

It was Clarke.

Clarke was her light in the upstairs window.

She laughed suddenly, alone and loud in the night. It burst out of her as if she couldn’t hold it in, as if she couldn’t even wrap her head around how much the universe liked to mess with her.

She had been mesmerized by the light in the window since she first saw it a few days ago. How something as small as a light bulb flicked on in the room she grew up in could affect her so deeply, she didn’t know. She had been absolutely taken by Clarke since they first met. It made sense. It made Lexa’s gut twist in… _something_ , but it made sense.

She walked slowly towards the home, her hands dug deep into the pockets of her jumper, her eyes trailing the ground in front of her and her hood hanging low over her forehead. Each footstep on the concrete sounded like the one word echoing over and over in her mind.

_Clarke. Clarke. Clarke. Clarke._

She rounded the corner then, and saw the house just ahead. It was shrouded in darkness except for the small glow of the porch light, shining like a beacon in the night.

She immediately spotted Clarke sitting on one of the steps, hands folded in her lap.

Lexa’s stomach flipped at the thought of Clarke waiting for her outside. _Get your shit together, Lexa, my god._

She walked towards the house, putting every effort into not speeding up, not rushing to see Clarke and just be near her. Her footsteps crunched along the path, the sound eventually catching the blonde’s attention.

When Clarke caught sight of her, she stood and jumped down the steps, but slowed suddenly as if she realized how quickly she had reacted. Lexa tried not to let her mind linger on the small signs her eyes automatically identified—Clarke’s arms crossed in front of her, her feet shuffling, how straight she stood. She was nervous, and that only made Lexa’s chest clench even more.

She approached Clarke, her steps slowing as she got closer. Lexa felt herself stop just a few steps from her while the rest of her screamed to get closer.

The two girls stood in silence and stared.

The sight of the blonde standing with the house, tall and shadowed, behind her awoke something in Lexa. _The two things that could break down everything you’ve built up. Clarke and your home._

No, not her home anymore.

Lexa carefully molded her face into a mask. The one where she gave nothing away. Nada. Zero.

Clarke cleared her throat and threaded her hands in front of her. Lexa finally noticed what she was wearing. Just an old t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. Nothing special maybe, to anyone blind.

She tried not to notice how comfortable she looked, how long her legs were, how her hair was up in a bun that let little wisps hang around her face. She tried not to notice how much her hands itched to hold a lock in her fingers, to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

She tried not to notice all these things because she didn’t know how to handle the fact that Clarke was living in the house she grew up in. She didn’t know if she could handle going inside and pretending the paint on the walls and the wood of the floors weren’t a part of her very soul.

“Okay, so now you know something new about me,” Clarke said, finally. “My mom’s the academy commander.”

She stared at Lexa, waiting for her to react. But after years of practice, Lexa let nothing show on the outside, despite the storm that swirled inside her. She focused on keeping her breathing steady, her eyes fixed, her body relaxed. _Calm, cool, collected_. Afraid of letting the façade break, she merely nodded in answer.

Clarke looked her with careful eyes. Lexa could see the tenseness in her shoulders, how she expected Lexa to lash out or, more likely, retreat inside herself, turning right back into the cold corporal everyone knew.

She pulled a thoughtful lip between her teeth as her head buzzed with questions. In the end, she only let one slip.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lexa asked quietly. Her tone was considerably softer than either of the girls had been expecting. Clarke sighed as her head dipped to look at the ground, a tired hand unfolding to rest on her collarbone.

“Oh, I don’t know. It never even occurred to me, honestly. I guess I should’ve at least mentioned it, but it felt kind of weird to throw it into conversation. Like, ‘hey Lexa, my mom’s the boss of this whole place, now let me stitch your hand closed.’” She laughed lightly, but Lexa just nodded again.

“But,” she continued, a foot brushing against the gravel of the pathway, “I also didn’t want to scare you away or make you all careful or even more formal.” She looked down. “I just wanted to be Mystery Interim Nurse who enjoys Lexa’s visits, not the academy commander’s daughter. I just wanted to be Clarke.”

Lexa wasn’t able to mask her surprise at the confession. She wasn’t as successful with the blush that accompanied it, and she thanked the night for concealing it.

The words Lexa wanted to say warred in her head, fighting each other to be the first to have a chance. She didn’t know where to start, which emotion to give in to, what to say— _you could never scare me away_ or _you don’t know how much it makes sense that you are my light in the window_ or _you living in this house will break me to pieces_. She realized she had just been standing there, staring at the blonde with an unreadable expression on her face, when Clarke began to fidget.

“Now would be a good time for you to say something,” Clarke said. “I’ve been rambling this whole time and it’d make me feel a little better if you just said something.”

Lexa remained silent for another beat.

“You look a lot like your mom.”

 _Really? That’s what you went with_?

Lexa began to berate herself and question what little social skills she had when Clarke laughed suddenly, low and soft, and Lexa felt her chest blow open, her heart beat all through her body.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” The tension between them dissipated and Lexa, finally, allowed herself to smile just a little.

One corner of Clarke’s mouth raised in response and Lexa wondered how dangerous it was to notice the light cupid’s bow of her lips, how pink and smooth and _soft_ they looked.

She was shaken out of her trance when Clarke turned and took a step towards the house.

“Let’s go inside though. I need to make sure you haven’t mauled your knee like you did with your hand.” Her tone was light and teasing, but Lexa felt her legs turn to lead.

She had to go inside.

She…she didn’t know if she _could_.

It had been years. Years and years and years, and all the counselors and friends and books tell you that time is the best medicine, but they don’t mention that memories can be the worst kind of scars. The kind of scars that you forget sometimes, but burn at night in bed when you lay on them wrong or when someone points them out or when you’re forced to look at them in the mirror.

Clarke stopped at the door when she noticed Lexa hadn’t followed her. She still stood on the pathway, eyes downcast and hands clenched at her sides.

Lexa’s jaw locked painfully as she grit her teeth against the sudden need to run the opposite way.

“Don’t worry, my mom isn’t here,” Clarke said with a hand on the doorknob. Lexa looked up at her then, prayed that she couldn’t see the conflict warring behind her eyes.

She knew she’d have to face her demons eventually. If only her demons were more scary than of the emotional variety.

She could deal with fear. All that she had hidden in the smallest corners of her mind to forget—that was a different story.

But she could do this. She could do it.

Slowly, Lexa made her way up the creaky front stairs and followed Clarke as she opened the front door and entered the house.

With tentative steps, she crossed the threshold, closing the door behind her with careful, calculated breaths. _You can do this_.

She turned around and the air all but froze in her lungs.

It looked _exactly the same_.

As Clarke made her way to the kitchen, Lexa took slow steps into the living room. Her mind ran a mile a minute as she took everything in around her. She turned in a small circle to look at every inch of the house, trying to reconcile the sudden and surprising rush of relief with the feeling in her chest that felt something like the word “ _home_.”

The couches, the small wooden coffee table, the fireplace, the dim lighting, the color of the walls, even the _smell_ of old, finished wood. It was all still there and Lexa felt it in her bones.

She had expected to feel heavy, broken even, at the onslaught of emotions that being inside would inevitably bring. But instead, she felt lighter. Like a weight she had been carrying for the past six years had been lifted.

She took slow steps through the living room, noticing all the small details that showed signs of other lives scattered about. A jacket slung over the couch, a different row of frames sitting on the mantle, the bookcase lined with books whose spines Lexa had not memorized. It made her heart ache with renewed grief, but she had long since learned to breathe past it. Exist despite it.

A small part of her assumed the house to be empty—stripped of all things that would remind her of her parents, of the things that once made the house her home. She had thought that with her mom and dad gone, her house would’ve been wiped clean as well, erased and lost like all else.

But the house,…the house still felt a bit like home and Lexa fought back tears at the dull, familiar ache at the center of her chest. She felt younger in the house. As if she had traveled back in time to all the memories she had so deliberately ignored for years.

“Lexa?” Clarke called from the kitchen. Lexa realized how long she had been engulfed in her thoughts, her head swimming with emotion. The dull throb of her knee registered for the first time in hours and she was suddenly grateful for the relief Clarke would bring.

She walked slowly through the hallway to the kitchen. When she saw the familiar wooden cabinets and old countertops, she couldn’t help but smile a little. Clarke looked at her curiously, as if she could see what Lexa had just been through on her face, as if she saw that Lexa had come out on the other side of her demons, victorious and tired.

“You okay?” she asked softly. Lexa pursed her lips.

“Yeah,” she lied, “my knee is just bothering me.” Clarke nodded once and motioned to a bag of medical supplies sitting on the dining table.

“I can fix that. Just let me wash my hands real quick.”

Lexa leaned against the countertop and let her eyes wander around. She noticed the small dent on the ceiling from that one time her mom tried to turn the fire detector off with a tennis ball. She noticed the wooden framing across the edges of the walls that her father had so carefully carved in his workshop the summer she turned nine.  She saw that the old stove was still sitting across from the sink where Clarke went to wash her hands, close neighbors with the refrigerator that Lexa adamantly believed was a monster when she was a small child.

“Um, okay, change of plans. The faucet isn’t working for some reason,” Clarke said, turning around from the sink. She twisted the nozzle right and left, but nothing happened.

(Lexa almost mentioned the trick knob, but she managed to stay quiet.)

Clarke paused, as if considering something.

“I have a bathroom up in my room,” she said.

(Lexa didn’t tell her she knew.)

“If you don’t mind, we, uh-, we can do this upstairs?”

Lexa tried not to notice the slight blush rising under the neckline of her t-shirt and just nodded. She didn’t trust her voice.

Clarke grabbed the bag and motioned at Lexa to follow her.

Lexa remembered then, suddenly, _blindingly_ , why she looked through the window every morning. Why she felt something calling for her upstairs, why she had yearned to come back. It was still here.

“My room’s just up the stairs.”

(Lexa didn’t tell her she knew.)

//

“Well, this is it. My little alcove,” Clarke said lightly. “It’s not much, but it’s cozy.”

Lexa nodded quietly, leaving their spot at the door to walk into the room. Clarke went to flick on the light, but _my god of course_ , the switch didn’t work. She was sure the house was mocking her for inviting Lexa over so late.

“Try flicking it up and down three times quick,” Lexa said over her shoulder.

“What?”

“The light switch. Three times up and down.”

There was something odd about her tone, but Clarke brushed it off. She tried it and the lights turned on unceremoniously.

“Huh,” she said, surprised, “campus trick?” Lexa just shrugged.

“Something like that.”

Clarke then noticed how messy her room was and cursed under her breath. She walked quickly around the room, picking up clothes off the floor and gathering a bunch of sketches into a pile on her desk.

“Sorry it’s a mess in here. I wasn’t expecting a guest.” It was mortifying really, showing such a mess to a girl who was the very definition of “orderly.”

“It’s fine,” Lexa said as she walked over to her window. She stared out through the glass, arms hanging at her sides. She seemed far away. Clarke didn’t press as she tossed her clothing into the hamper.

“I’m going to wash my hands, be right back.” She entered the bathroom and turned on the faucet, her eyes never leaving the mirror. She could see Lexa in the reflection, and Clarke unabashedly stared at her.

She had been mysteriously quiet the whole time. Not that Lexa wasn’t usually quiet, but it was different that night. She assumed it was because Lexa was nervous about being inside the academy commander’s home, but there was something in her eyes that Clarke couldn’t figure out. Something in the way she held herself, as if she would break with one wrong step.

She dried her hands on her shirt and re-entered her room, reaching for the bag with all the supplies she had brought from the nurse’s office earlier. She saw Lexa looking around timidly.

“Take a seat,” she said, patting the top of her covers lightly. She silently thanked her mother for at least instilling the habit of making her bed.

Lexa nodded and sat carefully, stretching her right leg in front of her with a grimace. Clarke sat cross-legged on the floor and slowly began pulling the bandages off.

She worked in silence, the only sound in the room being the slow ripping of the tape and the brush of cotton on skin.

The cuts had scabbed over nicely, but Lexa’s knee was practically black and blue with bruises from the fall. Clarke swabbed them with rubbing alcohol, blowing gently to try and ease the sting. She looked up to gauge the pain on Lexa’s face, but was surprised to see her staring blank-faced at a spot on the floor just behind her. She looked contemplative. Still silent.

Clarke stayed quiet, leaving Lexa to her thoughts. She covered the scrape in ointment and wrapped it in gauze, careful not to jostle it too much. When she placed the last bit of tape to finish the bandaging, she looked up again to see Lexa watching her with clear, green eyes. Clarke smiled.

“All done. I predict a full recovery.” Lexa stood slowly, bending her legs slightly to test her knee. She took a few small steps forward and turned to Clarke with a small frown.

“This limp isn’t the most attractive thing.” Clarke laughed in response and was delighted to see a smile grace Lexa’s face.

Lexa’s eyes flicked up behind her bed and stared. Clarke turned to see what she was looking at and immediately blushed in embarrassment.

“You drew all this?” Lexa asked, her mouth open slightly in wonder. Clarke got on her feet to stand next to her and tried to reign in the flush of heat.

Clarke had pinned up some of her art on the wall by her bed. There were drawings, a few charcoal sketches, a painting here and there. Just things that had caught her eye around campus, that looked beautiful and kept her busy whenever she found some time.

“Uh, yeah, it’s just a hobby. When I’m bored and I can’t keep my hands still,” Clarke said, trying her best to play it cool. She wasn’t awful—she was quite good actually—but she rarely shared them with anyone.

“They’re amazing, Clarke.”

“Oh. Uh, thank you.” She could feel her pulse hiccup at the sincerity in Lexa’s voice. Her eyes continued to trace the wall.

“You’re very talented. You should-“ She paused.

Clarke turned to look at her when her words cut off so suddenly. Lexa’s eyes were wide, her eyebrows knit together.

“Is…is that me?”

Clarke wondered if it was possible to spontaneously combust. Her cheeks flushed so deep and hot that she wondered if there was any blood left in the rest of her body. Maybe she’d just burn up in a blazing, mortified inferno and not have to explain herself. Not have to face the _sheer embarrassment_ of having Lexa find the portrait Clarke had drawn of her the night after she saw her in the fields.

“Oh god, yes. Yes, it is you,” she sputtered, “I’m sorry if that weirds you out, I just, it was after that time I ran into you outside and I couldn’t get over how good the lighting was and your shirt was like this perfect shade of green-“ Her words trailed off slowly because, honestly, she had no idea what to say. Lexa was perfect in that moment and Clarke had tried her best to put it down on paper.

In reality, she thought it did her no justice.

Lexa cleared her throat then, and Clarke noticed she was blushing, too. _Huh._

“Thank you. It’s a really flattering drawing,” Lexa said, turning to her. Clarke smiled a little and shrugged, grateful for feeling the heat start to wane in her face. (Only to pool slowly into the center of her chest.)

“It’s what I saw.” She looked up at Lexa and tried to say what she couldn’t through her eyes. _That is the you I see._

Lexa looked down suddenly and breathed out a little, as if preparing herself for something. She rubbed her forehead with a hand.

“Do you mind if I do something strange?” she asked, looking at Clarke again.

Clarke froze at her words, her heart racing suddenly.

“Uh, sure?” She turned to Lexa with curious eyes, but was surprised when Lexa faced the middle of the room.

(Clarke tried to ignore the low prickle of disappointment in her stomach.)

Lexa stood apprehensively at the center of the room, regarding the floor with a strange look. She spun in a circle, eyebrows knitted in concentration and eyes scanning quickly across the boards.

“There used to be this little…squeak when you stepped on the right place,” Lexa whispered, more to herself than Clarke. She lightly toed the floorboards with her shoe.

As she stepped carefully towards the window, both girls froze in surprise when a sharp whine sounded from under her sneaker.

Eyes raised to Lexa, Clarke was surprised to see a warm smile. Lexa lowered herself carefully to her good knee and used her fingers to pry at the corner of a particularly dark floorboard. She pulled it up carefully, holding it up with her bandaged hand, and gazed into the dark space.

Clarke moved off the bed and sat next to Lexa, who had shifted to sit on the floor. Peering inside, she saw a small metal box covered in dust. Lexa lifted it carefully out of the small space and raised a sleeve to wipe it clean.

On the top of the case was a child’s writing in large, clumsy letters. “LEXA” in a thick, green marker.

Clarke looked at her in surprise, but Lexa’s eyes remained fixed on the box in front of her. She watched as she pulled the top off.

Inside was a litter of small items, small treasures that only a young child would consider treasures. An old baseball, tiny trinkets, other things Clarke couldn’t discern. She spied the corners of an old photo peeking out underneath.

Before Clarke could even begin to wonder, Lexa spoke.

“This,” she said as she lifted a small purple bottle cap, “was from a summer spent in Paris, Indiana when I was 7. My dad thought it was so funny when he announced that we were vacationing in Paris and we ended up going to see my grandparents who lived 20 minutes from that stupid town. It was from a bottle of grape soda and it was the first thing I ever bought with my own money.” She set it on the floor next to her. She took out the baseball next, lifting it with a small smile.

“This was from my first baseball game when I was 10. My grandfather took me to a Nationals game against the Yankees. He swore to me that I’d catch a pop fly by the 7th inning stretch and I was  _so_ sad when the time came and passed and I didn’t have anything in my mitt. First pitch of the 8 th inning flew right at me. He helped me catch it.”

She set the baseball down in her lap. Her hand pulled out a small, half-burned white candle.

“And this,” she said, quieter than before, “was from my grandfather’s funeral when I was 11. He was a brigadier general. They went the whole nine yards for his memorial. It was the first time I grieved for someone I loved.”

Clarke didn’t even dare to breathe too loudly for fear that she’d break Lexa from this trance. She was reverent in her reminiscing, and it was sad and it was beautiful.

A small gold pin came next. A tiny eagle with its wings in full stretch, its head turned to one side.

“This was the first pin I ever received during my training. It was my first year in a military academy and I struggled so much. But by the end of the year, I was at the top of my class and my father surprised me at the end-of-year ceremony. He walked across the stage and pinned it on my chest and he cried afterwards. I teased him for weeks about it.” She smiled again, smaller and sadder this time, as she set the pin down next to the rest of the items.

She reached in again, but her hand faltered.

“This is a picture of me and my parents.” Lexa’s voice cracked on the last word, but they both ignored it. She lifted it so they could see it closely.

Lexa was so small, so young. A tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair in a crew-cut stood proudly behind her in a dark green suit, his chest littered with sparkling gold and bright pins. To his side stood a beautiful woman in a dark blue uniform, hair much like Lexa’s but with a face that was lighter, happier, loving. Little Lexa smiled with abandon—with her curly brown hair like a halo and her two front teeth missing.

The question burned on Clarke’s tongue.

“They died in a boating accident. My father was trying to figure out a new way to train the navy students on deep-water ocean rescue. My mother was in charge of the navy program, which was why she was with him. Something happened to the boat. The rescuers couldn’t figure it out, but something happened and they were gone.”

“How-how old were you?” Clarke’s voice was low and rough.

“I was 15.”

“Lexa, I’m so sorry.” She merely nodded in response.

“So was I. Years and years and years of training and service and knowledge, and they end up disappearing one day during a scouting trip.” She put the picture down and used the hand to pick at her bandages.

“That’s what used to make me mad,” she continued, “It didn’t matter what my father’s rank was, it didn’t matter how experienced my mom was. They were taken away like anyone else.”

Lexa quieted then, as if giving Clarke time to process everything. Her mind buzzed and whirred as she began to put all the pieces together.

Lexa’s father was the last academy commander. She used to live in the house she and her mother now lived in. Her room was where Lexa grew up.

“Do you mind if I ask why the box is still here?” Clarke said quietly.

“I went to live with my grandmother. I couldn’t even look at the house, let alone come inside it. This was my secret hiding place and I didn’t really want to mention it to the staff members who cleaned out the house for us.” Her voice was surprisingly controlled. Calm even, as if the whole thing had been therapeutic for her.

Clarke’s mouth opened to apologize—to say those awful words that she used to hate hearing and had been using way too much these days—but she caught herself at the last second. Lexa was strong, she didn't need her pity. She needed a friend. _Friend_.

“I’m sorry I unloaded all of this on you,” Lexa said, suddenly. She hadn’t looked her in the eyes the whole time, but Clarke didn’t need to see her eyes to know she was second-guessing the emotional unload.

“Don’t be,” she answered, trying to catch Lexa’s gaze. "I’m glad you shared it with me.”

At that, Lexa looked up at Clarke with a small smile, and Clarke felt every cell in her body buzz. They froze there, sitting close and staring at one another and Clarke felt like she was standing at the top of a cliff, wind whipping around her and the thrill of the fall echoing through her body.

_Beep._

The small watch on Lexa’s wrist sounded the hour change. Both girls jumped slightly at the tiny intrusion, as if waking from a stupor. Lexa cleared her throat and went to stand. Clarke tried to blink the daze out of her eyes.

“I should get going. I must have kept you up,” Lexa said, taking a step backward towards the door.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not so good at sleep honestly.”

“Really?” Lexa asked, surprised. Clarke hadn’t planned on being that honest, but it seemed both of them had dropped all pretenses. The walls were cracking; the dam was about to break. She nodded slightly in response.

Lexa looked at her thoughtfully.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Clarke blinked. She pointed at Lexa’s watch.

“But it’s 11. Don’t you have to be up really early? And your knee.” Lexa just shrugged.

“To be honest, I’m not so keen on the whole sleep thing either.” She smiled. “And my knee has been patched up by an expert.”

Clarke paused. She looked at Lexa—saw how relaxed she looked and how unguarded her eyes were—and was surprised at how much she burned for more. To spend more time with her, to learn more about her, to _have_ more of this Lexa.

“Then, yes. I’d love to.”

//

They walked in silence at a snail’s pace. The night was clear and cool; absent was the cold bite of wind that had taken residence a few nights ago. The stars shined high above and the crickets still sang slow and woefully, as if mourning the end of the summer weather.

Clarke had her hands dug deep into the pockets of her jacket. Not because she was cold, but because she didn’t know what to do with them, and considering how much they itched for Lexa, she knew it could end badly. She concentrated on breathing slowly, on seeing if she could somehow control her heartbeat and maybe quiet it down a bit because it was _so damn loud_ in her ears.

“So, what’s your story?” Lexa’s voice cut through the quiet between them.

“My what?”

“Everyone has something they carry with them. A plot twist of sorts. More often than not, it’s sad, but sometimes it’s a happy one.” Lexa paused. “Please tell me it’s happy.”

Clarke sighed.

“No, it’s not happy, unfortunately.”

She wondered how to word the absolute rush of emotions she felt. Lexa mistook her quiet for a reluctance to answer.

“I didn’t mean to pry. I thought—well, I figured you had something tied up inside like I did. I’ve seen it in your eyes,” she said softly. Clarke shook her head.

“No, you’re right, I do. It’s just, I don’t know how to say it.” She bit her lip. “I haven’t really talked to anyone about it.”

Clarke walked ahead towards a small hill on the side of the field and plopped down on the cool grass. She took deep breaths, readying herself to let everything trickle out, but she could already feel everything threatening to spill over and explode, feel the dam cracking in the wake of the waves of emotions and the thought of Lexa standing at its base saying with her gentle voice, “ _I’ve seen it in your eyes._ ”

Lexa followed quietly and sat next to her. Her eyes watched Clarke carefully, but Clarke’s remained down at her hands, which fiddled with a blade of grass.

She was having trouble finding the words. They was stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t get herself to talk. Seeing her struggle, Lexa spoke first.

“Mine’s what defined me, I think. It happened when I was old enough to know the pain.” Lexa leaned forward to pull on the grass around her legs. She kept talking and Clarke wanted to hug her for saving her, understanding her without a word on her part.

“I learned from it. Tragedy is blind. Sadness finds you when you’re vulnerable and alone. When you’re defenseless at 3 in the morning, when you’re eating dinner by yourself at an empty table. Grief comes in waves and you only find peace in the breaks of its wake.” She stopped and closed her eyes, a sigh falling from her lips. Hearing Lexa finally breathe was what gave Clarke the courage to speak.

“I have two, I think.” Lexa looked up at her. Clarke stared out at the field, avoiding the green eyes.

“My dad died of cancer right before I turned 17.” She paused then. The words had been heavier on her tongue than expected, despite how long it had been. She soldiered on.

“And the second happened six months ago.”

She prepared herself to finally share what she had been shouldering for months. With a deep breath, she felt her mouth begin to form the words.

She had been driving home with her best friends after a night out downtown. It was raining and hard to see and Finn was playing the music too loud and being too crazy because that’s just who he was and Raven was in the back singing along and distracting her and Finn said something funny and she had thrown her head back and laughed because that’s what she does (or _did_ , she corrected herself) when something is too funny to just giggle at and there was a sudden flash of headlights and then everything went dark, too dark, much too dark.

She learned that night that accidents and death and pain are surprisingly marked by silence. You’d think that it’s loud and angry and thunderous in its tragedy, but it’s not. After the world exploded around her, there was a complete, utter, empty silence that was terrifying. 

Everything had been disorienting. Those panic-filled moments when the three of them were stuck in what was left in the car. Fading in and out of consciousness as the sirens got louder and louder. The surprise in both her and the EMTs when she came out from the carnage whole and unharmed, crying for the two people she was with.

She remembered Raven screaming. A white sheet over a body. 

Her mother managed to show up at the hospital within minutes, and Clarke had explained it in blurbs, barely managing to speak over the tears and heaving gasps. She sat with her mom in the hospital waiting room, because that’s where alive, uninjured, and unharmed people went. Not in operating rooms or the ICU. They sat in silent, fluorescent rooms and were asked nicely to wait.

Finn died at the scene. Raven lost a leg.

Everyone told her it was an accident, told her it wasn’t her fault and it was just that—an accident. But she couldn’t help feel that it was somehow her fault. She knew, _she knew_ it wasn’t, but she was the one behind the wheel, wasn’t she?

Clarke finally took a shaky breath.

“That was six months ago. I never really got over it. I fell behind with school and isolated myself from my friends. It wasn’t till pretty recently that the school took notice though, which is funny. My world was falling apart and it took months for it to show up as a red flag on someone’s desk. Mom has a pretty high standing with the board, so they allowed me to take the semester off. To get my head screwed on straight again, I guess.” She looked up at the sky.

“Mom had a spare room upstairs and needed someone to take over the nurse’s station. And here I am.”

Clarke stopped to let herself breathe. All of it had come tumbling out, as if the words were forcing themselves out into the air. She felt lighter. Better, even.

She had expected that when the story finally fell from her lips, a storm would let loose and she’d cry and cry and cry. But her eyes were dry, and the weight of it was not nearly as heavy as she’d been expecting. It might’ve been because of how much time had passed, or how late it was.

It might’ve been because of Lexa.

Lexa looked lost in thought after all of it, eyes still staring out into the night, hands pulled deep into the sleeves of her jumper. Clarke sighed again as she rested her chin on top of a knee and turned to look at the girl next to her.

“So, I’m all sorts of screwed up, too. Life isn’t easy, corporal.”

Lexa laughed a little, and Clarke couldn’t help but smile. Lexa glanced at her, and answered with her own—a smaller, muted, simpler version that Clarke was already memorizing.

“I’d say.”

Lexa leaned back then—her hands braced against the deep, cool grass of the field and her long legs stretched out on the hill. Clarke eyed her, hoping she couldn’t hear her heart race. She was unreadable as always, but in that moment, Clarke would’ve given up a hand and a knee to know what she was thinking. 

She felt Lexa's presence. She felt it buzz through her veins like electricity. She heard the blood rushing in her ears and everything magnified as if she was more alive, more _Clarke_ when she was with Lexa. 

Clarke cleared her throat. She felt like she would combust if the silence wasn’t broken, but Lexa was the picture of serenity, so she knew she’d have to be the one to do it.

“So now we know each other’s deep, dark history. The baggage is claimed. My air of mystery is gone. What now?”

Lexa turned to her then, her green eyes bright despite how dark it was. A smile teased at her lips, but they didn’t reach her eyes. They were much too tired and sad for someone their age.

“We keep going. We survive,” she said, quietly.

This ignited something in Clarke. 

She had been surviving for months now. Had been sliding by for much too long and now, she was ready for something more. She knew she wasn’t the only one feeling what was between them.

Clarke slid closer to her, ignoring the nerves buzzing in her blood and Lexa’s muted surprise. She let her eyes see what she had denied herself for days.

She could see that Lexa had a spattering of freckles across her face. Her eyes roamed across her cheekbones, down the tip of her nose, and lower, lower, lower. When Lexa’s tongue peeked out to wet her lips, Clarke’s eyes flicked back up to hers. She saw her pupils dilate.

“No, Lexa. I’ll say it again. We deserve to live.” 

And with that, before her courage burned out and her brain took over, she leaned in.

For a moment, both girls froze at the enormity of what was happening. But then, as if Lexa could not bear the weight of herself anymore, her lips began to move and a hand lifted to Clarke’s neck.

It wasn’t perfect. 

No, both girls knew there was nothing perfect in the world. Clarke’s lips were slightly chapped and Lexa’s were slightly cold from the coolness of the night.

But the two girls and the night sky and the moon that hung overhead knew it was exactly what they both wanted, needed, had been wishing for.

//

When they finally separated, neither knew how much time had passed. Breaths heavy and eyes dark, they gathered themselves and stood to walk back home.

Lexa tried to reign in her heartbeat that was fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings, but her efforts were quashed when Clarke threaded her fingers through hers.

They were silent on the walk back, but it was a different kind of quiet. The kind of quiet that felt safe, felt comfortable and warm.

Lexa led them to the house first, wanting to drop her off at home before heading back to her own bunk. As they walked onto the porch and stopped at the front door, Clarke turned to face her with a small, teasing smile.

“You know, I was kind of expecting you to figure it out on your own after this morning, but you never mentioned it,” Clarke said.

Lexa’s head tilted in confusion. _This morning? What happened this morn—_

_Oh my god._

She had fallen flat on her face in surprise in front of the house when she noticed a girl sleeping on the porch. Clarke had shown up in a split second, had been there to patch her up and Lexa hadn’t even stopped to consider how.

She had been so caught up on the sheer concept that was Clarke—how soft her hair looked and how mesmerizing her eyes were, for example—that she hadn’t had a chance to wonder, question, connect the dots even.

Lexa shook her head, eyes closed and forehead scrunched.

“I’m an idiot.” Clarke laughed lightly.

“You’re not an idiot.”

“I am. I was distracted though, so I have an excuse.” Clarke raised her eyebrows at that.

“Oh yeah?” It felt like a challenge and Lexa felt herself rise to meet it.

“Yeah. She’s real pretty. A real big shot doctor, too. She saved my life twice,” Lexa said with a smile. Clarke rolled her eyes despite the blush in her cheeks.

“I don’t know if that makes her a hero or you a handful.”

Lexa raised her bandaged hand and knee in unison.

“Both, I believe.”

Clarke laughed and Lexa couldn’t help but smile harder.

“Good night, Lexa,” she said, warmly. She made no move to walk in though.

“Good night, Clarke. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Lexa didn’t even try to keep the eagerness out of her voice. She was too far gone. Clarke’s smile in response lit up the whole porch, maybe even the whole campus and Lexa lost herself even more.

“You may have to set up an appointment.”

“I’ll just fall and hurt something again. Jump right to the front of the line.” Clarke reached to hit her on the shoulder.

“Don’t you dare. I refuse to give you medical attention again.” Her tone was serious, but her eyes were teasing.

“It’ll be something less physical. Sunburn maybe, or chapped lips.” Lexa flushed as she realized her words, but Clarke only laughed.

“I can fix those. Easy.” She looked up affectionately at Lexa and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Good night, Lexa.” With another smile, she turned to open the door and enter the house.

Lexa’s heart puttered at Clarke’s voice, the burn she still felt on her cheek where her lips were. 

She walked off the porch and started for the dorms. She couldn’t help how giddy she was, how light and free and _young_ that night had made her feel. She didn't let herself overthink anything _—_ she let herself feel and just  _be_. She let herself want Clarke and have Clarke, and she felt intoxicated with the entirety of the girl.

The urge to skip and pump her fists in the air burned through her body. To do something that would yell, “ _she likes me! she really likes me!”_ to the world.

Lexa Woods was not a teenager by any means, but _god_ , did Clarke make her feel like one.

She turned in her tracks to look back at the house and was happy to see the upstairs window bright against the night. A shadow stood in the light, and Lexa saw a hand raise to wave at her.

She waved back, a slow hand in the air, and started again down the path.

She reveled in the quiet of the late night as the sound of her footsteps on the concrete echoed her thoughts.

_Clarke. Clarke. Clarke. Clarke._

She couldn’t wait for the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fluff at the end kinda just spilled out of me. I can't wait to write all the happy, sweet, fun (sexy) times between these two. I mean what
> 
> find me @ei8htballer on tumblr & twitter. yell & I will listen attentively.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are both happening and not happening, and they don't know how to handle it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I realize it's been SO long since I updated, but I'm here so pls take this fluffy chapter as my peace offering. there's some setup for future plot points, so I'm sorry if nothing big happens but Things Will Happen soon.
> 
>  
> 
> edit: over 1000 kudos??? how dare you??? how dare you make me feel this happy and proud and overwhelmingly grateful for all of your incredible support???

Despite going to bed much later than usual, Lexa’s eyes flicked open when her windows were still dark. Without a sound, she swung her legs off her bed and stood, pulling the hoodie hanging on the bedpost over her head and digging a pair of running shorts out of her dresser. The dorm room was quiet, save for the slow breaths and light snoring coming from some of her bunkmates. She did her best not to wake anyone as she made her way over to the door, sneakers and toothbrush in hand.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, Lexa jogged down the steps of the building, sucking in a deep breath of the cool morning air and feeling it swirl through her lungs. It was starting to get a bit chillier. She pulled her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie and turned to start down the sidewalk.

With each step, she felt her brain start to wake and catch up with the rest of her. This was her method of rebooting each morning—the pounding of her feet on pavement was the best way to bring her head back down to reality for the day. As her eyes got clearer and her thoughts began to take form, there was only one thing on her mind.

Bit by bit, she remembered the previous night. Seeing the house, spending time with her, learning about the accident, sharing her own little box of memories, kissing her.

Oh god, _kissing_ her.

Lexa felt warmth spread through her chest and a smile creep up her face at the thought. It had been completely unexpected, really. But the night itself had been a string of surprises.

It was as if neither of them could keep it all bottled up any longer.

She hadn’t planned on sharing that much of herself with Clarke, and she had a feeling that Clarke wasn’t expecting to tell her about The Incident either. It had all come pouring out—like they didn’t want to shoulder the weight on their own.

It was just… _easy._ And maybe easy was exactly what both of them needed.

Before she knew it, Lexa saw the house pop up into view. She felt her skin tingle warmly at the thought of who was sleeping inside. Her eyes remained glued to the upstairs window the whole time she approached the home.

Her feet stopped at the front gate as she considered her next move. Was it too soon to want to see Clarke again? Was it too early in the morning? Should she just leave and play it cool?

But her thoughts were cut short by the sudden wail of the reveille. She flinched in surprise and turned to see Miller with his bugle. As he finished the short song, he nodded once in recognition at Lexa before he marched back towards the buildings.

When she turned around to face the house again, she was surprised to see the window illuminated in the rising dawn. A shadow passed and Lexa froze, unsure of what to do.

 _God,_ she thought, _you are hopeless_.

“Clarke?” she called out.

There was a beat of stillness, but the shadow returned to the window. Lexa watched as Clarke pried it open and stuck her head out. Lexa could see the creamy skin of her shoulders and her blonde hair wrapped loosely in a bun. She glowed slightly in the navy light of the early morning. It made Lexa smile.

“Lexa?”

“Uh, good morning.” Lexa stepped through the gate to get closer to the window.

“What are you doing outside so early?” Clarke asked as she rubbed her eyes with the heel of one hand.

“I run every morning. Through campus.” Lexa hands raised to hold onto the drawstrings of her hoodie in self-consciousness.

“The sun’s not even up yet and you’re already better than the rest of us human beings,” Clarke said as she leaned an elbow onto the frame and rested her chin on her palm.

“I am a rather outstanding human being,” Lexa said with a smile. Clarke laughed in response and Lexa felt the sound of it rain down on her.

The sun began to peek over the corner of the house’s roof and cast a light shadow over Clarke. Lexa felt her heart hiccup at the sight of her leaning out the window, a sleepy smile on her lips and her eyes looking softly down at Lexa on the ground.

She was suddenly reminded of Romeo & Juliet. How did it go?

_What light through yonder window breaks?_

It is the east, and Clarke is the sun.

“You’re awfully smiley this morning,” Clarke teased. Lexa just shrugged her shoulders. Her smile dropped down to a small grin.

“It’s a good morning.”

Clarke hummed in agreement.

“Are you done with your torture?” she said.

“What?”

“Do you have more running to do?” she asked. Lexa looked around and remembered why she was outside in the first place.

“Oh, uh, yeah almost. I just have to get back to my dorm.” Clarke nodded once.

“Give me a minute,” she said right before shutting her window with a slam.

Lexa stood awkwardly, feet shuffling in the gravel pathway and hands dug deep into the pocket of her hoodie. She heard the door swing open and close and turned to see Clarke pulling on her shoes as she tried not trip.

“Sorry that took so long. My sink was being temperamental,” she said as she approached Lexa.

“Trick knob. Try turning the hot and cold on at the same time.” Clarke nodded.

“Noted,” Clarke said as she took a slow step closer to Lexa.

“So, did you come down just to see me?” Lexa asked with a small smirk. She tried to ignore the buzz of excitement of having her so close again. Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Yes, but I also came down because it’s my turn to be cute,” she said as she made her way towards the gate. “I thought I’d return the favor and walk you back to your room. Emphasis on walk though.” Lexa laughed and followed her out to the sidewalk.

They strolled down the street towards the brick buildings, content in the comfortable silence and each other’s company. After a few minutes, Lexa noticed that Clarke had crossed her arms and was holding them tight against her body.

“Are you cold?” she asked. Clarke just smiled.

“I’m fine. It’s just a cool breeze.” But even before she finished her sentence, Lexa had pulled off her hoodie. She held it over to Clarke who looked at it with raised eyebrows.

“No really, I’m fine, Lexa,” she insisted. Lexa nudged it closer to her.

“Take it. I’m warm from my jog. But it’s not sweaty or anything, I mean, I ran but I don’t usually sweat until I—“ But her words were cut off by Clarke taking the hoodie and tugging it over her head. The sight of her wearing her clothes made something burn warm and happy in her chest.

“Thank you,” Clarke said with a kind smile. Lexa kept walking to hide the blush across her cheeks.

“Don’t mention it.” Lexa was surprised at how even she kept her voice.

“Wouldn’t want everyone to know that Corporal Woods is a _softie_ ,” Clarke teased.

“No, that information is confidential,” Lexa said as she stuck her hands in the pockets of her shorts. Her hands seemed to have a strange mixture of not knowing what to do and having a mind of their own.

Clarke caught up and walked slowly alongside her, an arm rising to wrap around Lexa’s. She could feel the warmth of her skin through the soft fabric of the old hoodie.

“Don’t worry. It’s our little secret.”

They walk quietly to the front of the dorms. Lexa silently considered taking a detour to spend more time with the girl at her arm, but there an annoying thing called _class_ that she couldn’t be late for. When they got to the entrance, Lexa turned to face Clarke.

“Well, this is me,” she said, running a hand through her ponytail. Clarke looked up to survey the building.

“I honestly don’t know how you guys manage around here. All of them look the same.” The exasperation was evident in her voice and Lexa chuckled.

“If you get lost again, just look for someone with a whistle. We tend to be helpful if we’re in a good mood.”

“And are you in a good mood?” Clarke asked with a smile. Lexa nodded once.

“It’s a good morning,” she said thoughtfully. “But you’ll have to ask me again after morning drills.” Clarke laughed and Lexa took a step back towards the stairs, knowing that if she didn’t start pulling herself away, she’d never leave.

“Have a nice day, Clarke.”

But before Lexa could react, Clarke stepped close, snaked a hand behind her neck, and pulled her into a kiss. It was sweet and slow and short, but Lexa felt herself melt.

This girl was going to be the death of her.

“I’ll see you later, Corporal.” Lexa made a noise in the back of her throat that was supposed to be a “yes” of some sort, but it came out strangled. Clarke just laughed and reached out to squeeze Lexa’s hand. She turned to leave as Lexa stood there frozen and on fire at the same time.

She could still taste the minty cool of Clarke’s toothpaste as she walked up the stairs and into the dorms. 

//

It was nearing noon and Clarke was insanely bored in the office. Having nothing to do was torture, mainly because there was only one thing on her mind.

Seeing her that morning was unexpected and _sweet_ and the perfect way to start her day. But after their nice walk and the kiss, Clarke knew it’d be impossible to think about anything else for the rest of the day. She had kissed Lexa because she hadn’t wanted to do anything else since she first saw her outside the window.

It wasn’t until later that she realized she hadn’t returned the hoodie, but she was glad because it gave her an excuse to see her again.

 _Jesus H. Christ,_ she thought to herself _, I am in way too deep_.

But before she could consider the ramifications of falling so fast and so hard, two sharp knocks sounded at the door. She burst out of her seat, but paused to make sure her outfit was neat and her hair was alright before she answered it to find—

“Oh,” she said, trying to hide the disappointment, “hey, O.”

Octavia’s eyebrows raised at the reaction.

“ _Wow_ , I don’t think anyone’s ever been so upset to see me,” she said as she stepped into the office.

“No, it’s not you, O. I’m sorry, I was—“

“Expecting someone else?” Octavia asked. She took Clarke’s silence as a confirmation.

“And I came to save you from your boredom and _feed_ you. That’s how you repay your best friend?” she teased. Clarke threw her head back in frustration.

“I’m sorry, O,” she said as Octavia placed a hand on her arm.

“You can apologize to me on the way to the mess hall. I require an explanation and significant details, so we’ll eat slow.”

Before Clarke could protest, Octavia ushered her out the door and flipped the sign outside the office from “OPEN” to “CLOSED.”

“O, I’m supposed to be working.”

“You’re allowed a lunch hour and you know it,” she said, a hand still on Clarke’s arm.

“Yeah, but—“

“Lexa has drill training till 1300 hours. It’s currently a quarter past noon. You won’t miss her, don’t worry.”

“What? I mean, this isn’t about—“

“Don’t even try, Griffin. I know how clinical you are for Corporal ‘Fear Me’.” Clarke’s mouth snapped shut at that and Octavia smirked. Her hand released the arm and she smiled when Clarke continued to walk with her out of the building.

“Bell told me that he caught you staring at her during afternoon drills,” Octavia said. “Apparently there was some drooling going on.” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come on.”

“Bell doesn’t lie, Clarke,” she said. At her pointed look, she relented.

“Okay, maybe he does. But I know he was telling the truth about this because I saw you two in your office that one day and I could’ve cut through the sexual tension in the air with a knife.”

“ _That_ is an exaggeration,” Clarke said as Octavia led them towards a large grey building. The words “Dining Hall” hung high over the double doors and she felt her stomach grumble at the thought of food. The two of them entered and weaved through a small crowd of students still in training gear to get in line.

“No,” Octavia continued with a small smirk, “an exaggeration would be me saying that Lexa’s eyes were undressing you as you blushed like a little girl behind your surgery tools.” Clarke flushed with embarrassment, but she felt her veins buzz at just the thought of the corporal.

“Okay, time for a subject change. How’s training going?” Her hands were restless so she pulled her hair out of its bun and tried to keep herself busy with redoing it.

“Have you guys had sex yet?”

The hairband in Clarke’s fingers broke with a loud _snap_.

She was speechless while Octavia laughed deep and loud, her shoulders shaking at the blush creeping up Clarke’s neck. Several students turned to give them strange looks, but Octavia’s glare had them turning back around just as fast.

Clarke was saved momentarily as they finally entered the cafeteria line. She busied herself with loading her tray with food and very pointedly avoiding Octavia. She took a seat at an empty table and waited for her friend to join her, all the while trying to brainstorm a way to avoid the inevitable conversation.

“Answer the question, Griff,” Octavia said as she set her tray down and tucked her legs under the table.

“O, I swear to god.” Clarke picked up a roll and tore it in half, picking at its insides.

“So that’s a no. How far?”

“What?”

Octavia sighed in exasperation. She poked her fork in the air at Clarke.

“How far have you gone with the Commander? Second base? Third?” Clarke stuffed her mouth with chicken to buy herself some time. Octavia stared pointedly at her as she chewed thoughtfully.

“I mean, what even is the base system? It seems to be different for everyone and it really isn’t a reliable way to measure—“

“Just answer the damn question, Clarke.” At that, she swallowed and avoided eye contact.

“No base. Or is it first base? Um, we kissed.” She paused for a moment. “A lot.”

Octavia’s face broke into a huge smile.

“Now _that’s_ something I can work with. How was it? Is she good?” Octavia leaned forward with her elbows resting on the table and her fists tucked under her chin. She was smiling like a little kid and Clarke couldn’t help but answer with one of her own.

“Yeah. She’s good. Like, _really_ good, O.” Clarke looked down at her food, the spoon in her hand swirling slowly around in a bowl of soup.

“You like her.”

The words hit her square in the chest and all at once, she felt her own words start to spill out of her mouth.

“It’s just, she makes me feel… _god_ , I don’t even know. It’s like this weird combination of _safe_ and like my heart’s going to beat out of my chest and I can feel every single nerve ending in my body. She makes me feel _alive_ , O.”

Something akin to relief blossomed in her chest. It was nice to say the words out loud. Tell someone else and give her thoughts breath and body and life outside of the swirling mess in her head.

It felt good.

“That sounds dangerous,” Octavia said as she took a bite. Clarke could see she was trying to repress her smile.

“I really like her.”

“That’s great, babe. I’m happy for you, seriously.” She leaned forward and put a warm hand over Clarke’s.

“Thanks. That means a lot,” Clarke said. Octavia sat back again, poking her fork at her salad. A frown began to creep into the corners of her mouth.

“What is it?” Clarke asked.

“It’s just…why did you have to choose someone who hates my fucking guts?” Clarke laughed wholeheartedly at that, and the smile was back on Octavia’s lips.

“She doesn’t hate you. You have a big mouth and you know it.”

“Meh, guilty.”

“Innocence has never been your specialty, O,” Clarke said. At that, Octavia’s eyes sparkled with mischief. Clarke spotted it right away and groaned at the knowledge that her friend was hiding something.

“Speaking of which, I need to tell you something,” she said as she leaned forward. Clarke’s eyebrows raised and Octavia’s lips widened into a smile.

“I have a secret,” she whispered, “and his name is Lincoln.”

//

After a grueling 5-mile run and half an hour of training exercises, Lexa found herself walking back towards the dorms with Lincoln ambling along beside her. Being so tall, his easy gait was enough to keep up with Lexa’s determined strides.

“I’m definitely going to feel those last few burpees tomorrow,” Lexa said, shaking out her arms and stretching her neck.

“By ‘few,’ do you mean the 100 we were ordered to do because Nyko missed his mile time?” Lincoln said with a small laugh.

“I know he’s one of your best friends, but _god_ , I almost punched him square in the face.”

“You and me both.”

They lapsed into silence as they made their way across campus. Lexa was dying for a shower and some clean clothes. Her shirt was drenched with sweat and sticking to her uncomfortably.

“Lexa, I need to tell you something,” Lincoln said suddenly. Her eyebrows raised a little at the fact that he’d used her actual name.

“Is everything okay?” she asked. Lincoln nodded quick and curt, but his eyes squinted slightly as he contemplated his words.

“Everything’s great. Really good. I—uh actually, it’s about Octavia.”

At that, Lexa turned to him and glared. Lincoln very obviously was avoiding eye contact, instead looking up and away as he continued.

“I asked her to dinner this Friday, Like, on a date,” he said. The corners of Lexa’s mouth tensed slightly.

Lexa bit her lip lightly in thought. She could feel the weight of her words of caution on the tip of her tongue—things like _you can’t_ and _you shouldn’t_ and _it could affect your position_ and _what if it all goes wrong?_

It wasn’t _forbidden_ or anything like that, but it was severely frowned upon. Anyone with a high academy ranking was not supposed to “consort” with cadets or staff members that—

_Shit._

She realized that the reason those words were so quick to appear and so easy to taste was because they had been echoing in the back of her mind for days. She had been ignoring them, had abandoned them as she let herself drown in the blue eyes that had taken over everything.  

But now that Lincoln was about to delve into his own breed of dangerous waters, who was she to criticize?

She swallowed once and rolled her shoulders slightly, as if shrugging off the sudden weight on her shoulders.

“That…sounds nice.”

Lincoln looked at her, shocked and completely caught off guard.

“Wow, I uh—I could say something to annoy you, but I honestly can’t think of anything right now,” he said, running a hand over his head.

Lexa just kept looking forward as they walked, painfully aware of the ache in her chest that her realization had bore, and Lincoln seemed to accept her silence as an answer. After a few moments, he turned to her again.

“Does this acceptance have something to do with the Mystery Number?”

A short and cold denial instantly rose to her throat, but she swallowed it. What she and Clarke had...it was something. She could acknowledge it—make it known and real and a Thing To Share. She could share it with Lincoln. She let her lack of response speak for itself. His face instantly lit up.

“What’s her name? Do I know her?” Lexa’s eyes went skyward as she sighed.

“You don’t know her. She’s not from Polis.” Lincoln’s eyebrows raised.

“How—“

“No questions,” she said, stopping and turning to face him, “but I will give you three answers.” Lincoln nodded, knowing it was the best he’d get from her. Lexa raised a single finger.

“One, she goes to Jaha, but she’s working here for a bit.” She lifted a second finger. “Two, she’s blonde. And three—” she raised a third, but paused for a second. The words she wanted to say were heavy on her tongue.

Lincoln looked at her expectedly, but his eyes glanced over her shoulder and he immediately shifted into a stiff salute. Lexa turned around to see what he saw and came face-to-face with Anya. She immediately saluted as well. With a small smile, Anya waved a hand at them.

“At ease, corporals.” Both of them nodded and relaxed. Lexa tried to look bored, but Lincoln smiled. He had always liked Anya.

“Hello, Lincoln,” Anya said.

“Good afternoon, colonel.”

“How’s your mother doing?”

“She’s doing well, thank you for asking.”

“Good to hear. Pass along a hello for me,” she said with a nod.

“Will do, colonel.”

Anya turned to face Lexa.

“Lincoln, if you don’t mind, I need to speak to Corporal Woods about something.”

“Of course.” He saluted her again, nodded at Lexa, and took his leave.

“Is anything wrong?” Lexa asked quietly. Anya shook her head with a small smile.

“No, I wanted to ask a quick favor. Gus is working late today, so could you make a run to the store for me? I need a few things for dinner.” 

“Sure thing, just text me the list.” 

“Thanks, kiddo.” Lexa immediately looked around to make sure no one had heard her.

“I told you not to call me that on campus,” Lexa hissed, but Anya just smirked. It was the same teasing smile she’d had for the last ten years.

“Look, Lex, as long as you’re still doing ‘Monday night dinners with Yaya’, I get to call you ‘kiddo’.” Lexa grimaced at her old nickname for Anya.

“Jesus christ, Anya, I called you that when I was like seven. Someone might hear you.” The colonel rolled her eyes and the familiar habit made Lexa forget about the uniforms for a moment.

Just then, a younger student passed and saluted Anya, whose teasing grin was instantly replaced by a serious press of her mouth. She nodded at the private and turned back to Lexa once he was out of earshot.

“This place is so serious sometimes, it makes me want to vomit,” Anya said with a frown.”

“Not what you want to hear from you commanding officer,” Lexa retorted. Anya glared at her playfully.

“Stand down, kiddo, or you’re not getting any dessert tonight.”

“Anya, seriously, _stop it_ ,” Lexa said. Anya glared at her.

“No one’s going to hear us and no one’s going to know. It’s not that big of a deal, Lex,” she said, her tone clearly annoyed at Lexa’s concern.

“Maybe not for you, but to me it is.”

“Alright, alright,” Anya said, placating her unease. “See you tonight. I’m going to let Gus eat everything if you’re late again.” A teasing smirk appeared and Lexa instantly bristled.

“I was late _once_ and that was _three years ago_ ,” she fumed. Anya chuckled at her, and Lexa couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She turned to leave and raised a hand to wave.

“See ya, pipsqueak,” she said over her shoulder. Lexa shook her head.

“Bye, Anya.”

//

A long shower and a fresh uniform had Lexa in a significantly better mood than before. When she stepped back outside, the air was warm, the sky bright and blinding in its light.

She lied to herself as she walked down the steps—told herself that she was just going for a nice walk during her free hour, but she had somewhere (and someone) very distinct in mind.

Before she knew it, she was standing underneath a small, lit sign that shimmered with two small words.

_First Aid_

As she lifted a hand to knock on the familiar door, she noticed a placard next to the knob. It read “CLOSED.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Lexa glanced at her watch. It was just past 1300 hours. Clarke was supposed to be working. She tried the door and found that it was unlocked. Stepping inside slowly, she looked around the room.

“Clarke?” she called. There was no response.

With a frown, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and began typing out a message.

 **So what happens if someone**  
**has a medical emergency and**  
**comes to the nurse’s office  
****to find that it’s empty?**  

The message sent with a whoosh. Lexa tried not to notice how disappointed she was that Clarke wasn’t there. Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

 **they’re going to have to deal**  
**with it for a little while because**  
**the nurse requires sustenance**

Lexa chuckled, but before she could start tapping out a response, her phone vibrated again with a new message.

**but in all seriousness  
are you okay?**

Another buzz.

**did something happen?**

Lexa felt herself warm over Clarke’s concern. She sent a quick response to calm her down.

**I’m fine, Clarke, don’t worry.**

**okay good, because I  
was starving.**

Lexa smiled at the message. She could practically hear Clarke’s voice through her words and that made her stomach flutter. Which was ridiculous, really, but…nice. She walked around the room aimlessly while looking down at her phone. It buzzed again.

**although I’d hardly call the  
stuff in the mess hall “food”**

**It’s not that bad.**

**well it’s not as good as the  
cafeterias at Jaha**

Lexa moved to sit on her cot and leaned against the wall.

 **You guys can keep your vegan**  
**gluten-free trash on your side**  
**of the river. Our food is meant**  
**to feed warriors.**

**do warriors trip on flat**  
**ground when they see a**  
**pretty girl?**

Lexa’s hand stuttered on the screen. _Dammit._

**I’m guessing Modesty 101 is  
an upper-level course at Jaha.**

**don’t change the subject, Lexa**

**and no, the course is called**  
**“Knowing Your Strengths” and**  
**it’s a first-year seminar**

Lexa went to type out another teasing response, but she was surprised by a voice at the door.

“Medical emergency, huh?”

Clarke was standing at the entrance, a hand resting on the knob and the other tucked into her back pocket. She was looking at Lexa with a soft gaze and a small smile. Lexa felt herself flush embarrassingly fast.

“Hi,” she breathed. Clarke laughed quietly.

“Hey there.” She closed the door behind her and Lexa felt herself swallow at the sound of the knob clicking shut.

Her blood buzzed and she mentally chastised herself for acting like a teenage boy. But she didn’t hear any of it because she was too busy watching as Clarke slowly walked over to her on the cot. She swallowed again and found her voice.

“I’m—uh, sorry for coming in here. The sign said ‘closed,’ but I just came in to check if you…”

Her voice slowly trailed off as Clarke climbed onto the cot with her.

Straddled her legs.

Leaned in close.

“I left the sign,” Clarke whispered. Her breath tickled Lexa’s lips and she felt her heart thudding in her chest. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m going to be busy for a little while.”

Lexa’s breath hitched and her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips.

“Good thinking,” she said. And with that, she leaned in and kissed her.

It was fire. That was all Lexa could think to describe it. It bit and burned and consumed, but oh, if Lexa turned to ash under Clarke’s lips, she would be fine with it.

They moved in tandem—Clarke’s tongue skimmed against Lexa’s and Lexa pulled at Clarke’s bottom lip. They tasted and explored because that’s what they got to do behind locked doors and signs that read “CLOSED.”

Clarke’s hands held the back of Lexa’s neck, but started to move downwards. Her skin burned as Clarke’s fingers traced the line of her jaw to the hard contour of her collarbones. Lexa felt her own hands start to move, grasping the curve of Clarke’s hip and resting on the dip of her waist. She felt her fingertips buzz when they came in contact with a stripe of smooth skin that peeked under Clarke’s un-tucked shirt.

She was having trouble keeping herself together—she felt like she was going to fall to pieces and float away. She felt like she could combust, shatter, break apart under Clarke’s soft lips and hands and skin. Lexa was no longer in control.

And it felt _so damn good_.

She shifted herself higher, to pull herself closer to the girl that was drowning her alive, but her legs were held tight by Clarke’s. She moved her knee slightly and was surprised as Clarke pulled back with a gasp.

Lexa blinked a few times to bring herself back to reality and looked up at Clarke. She looked just as dazed as Lexa felt.

“Are you okay?” Lexa mumbled. Her lips were still buzzing and slightly numb.

“I—yeah, I’m good,” Clarke breathed. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing back the strays that had gotten loose from her bun. She smiled lightly at Lexa. “A little too good.”

Lexa blushed slightly when she realized what she had done, but Clarke only chuckled lightly. She sighed, her whole chest heaving at the big breath she took.

“It’s probably a good thing that—I mean, I don’t think I could’ve stopped if we kept going,” she said. Lexa blinked blankly at her a few times. Clarke smirked.

“Do you need a few minutes to gather yourself, corporal?” she teased. Lexa poked her in the side and Clarke yelped.

“I’m fine,” Lexa huffed, but the truth was apparent when she leaned her head back to rest against the wall. “I might need a second though.”

Her eyes closed as she tried to get her breathing back to normal. Clarke was like a goddamn drug and she could still feel her buzzing through her system. Suddenly, she felt warm lips kiss her softly. When Clarke pulled away, Lexa sighed, embarrassingly content.

“Let me make you dinner tonight.”

Lexa’s eyes shot open at Clarke’s words.

“What?”

“Tonight. Like a date. Dinner?” Clarke asked. She seemed to be a strange mix between confident and nervous—her eyes looked directly into Lexa’s, but her hands fidgeted with the ends of her sleeves.

Lexa’s mind immediately started racing. _Should I tell her? What if someone finds out?_

“I can’t.” Her voice cut through the room and Clarke stilled.

“Oh. Of course you can’t. You’re probably really busy and I didn’t even think about—“ Lexa grabbed her hands to stop her from talking.

“Clarke, no it’s not that. I, uh—have a thing tonight,” she tried to explain. The words weren’t coming out of her mouth properly because her brain was still trying to wake up and her tongue was strangely heavy. Clarke looked at her with her blue, blue eyes and pursed lips. Lexa could see that she was trying not to look confused and sad, and it hurt somewhere deep inside her chest.

“Oh, well okay. If you have a thing,” she said softly. She moved to climb off Lexa, who was surprised at the sudden absence of warmth. Clarke stood and straightened out her shirt, occupying herself with refolding the cuffs of her sleeves.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” Lexa said, sliding off the cot, “really, I’d love to, but I just have something.”

Clarke looked up at her with a calm gaze, but Lexa couldn’t help but feel that she had misstepped. She was hiding something and Clarke knew it.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Tomorrow?” she said with a smile. Lexa nodded.

“Tomorrow.”

Just then, the afternoon bell rang, breaking the strange quiet between them. Lexa tried not to breathe out in relief—her air-tight schedule was rescuing her from the trainwreck she called her social skills.

“I’ll text you later, okay?" She moved forward to kiss Clarke on the cheek and smiled at her, trying to assuage her anxiety and Clarke’s concern. Her heart only calmed when she saw a small one peek from Clarke’s lips.

“Have a good rest of your day,” she said. Lexa walked towards the door, but turned around before leaving. Clarke blew her a kiss and Lexa felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Even when Lexa was acting like a mess, Clarke could make her feel...liked. She reached up to pretend to catch the kiss and put it in her pocket. Clarke laughed and she laughed and Lexa felt the weight of her affection sit in her bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me @ei8htballer on tumblr & twitter. yell & I will listen attentively.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world sits on Lexa's shoulders once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, life has been outta control these past few months. I wrote bits and pieces whenever I had time, but I finally sat down and finished it today! enjoy~
> 
> also, a HUGE shoutout to queuecumbermelon for helping me out with this chapter and being an awesome friend. here's to happier days ahead of us, dude.

As the sun began to set and the color of the sky shifted towards something closer to dusk, Lexa biked a slow path through the quiet streets to Anya and Gus’s home. It was always nice to get away from the academy campus for a little while. She liked having the wind in her hair and the easy repetition of riding her bike over the smooth pavement of the suburbs. Her knee buzzed faintly with each pedal, but it was easy to ignore it as she matched the color of the sunlight filtering through the trees with the shine of Clarke’s hair under clear skies.

She pulled on her brakes slowly as she approached the small, white house she had come to know and love. Leaning her bicycle against the side of the front fence, Lexa made her way around to the backyard and rapped on the sliding glass doors before stepping inside.

“Anya, I’m here,” she yelled, letting the door close behind her.

“About time, I need those onions. And you got the cheese right?” Anya called from the kitchen. Lexa slipped off her shoes and padded over to the sound of Anya’s voice. Placing the groceries gently on the counter, she began emptying the bag.

“Two onions, provolone, a clove of garlic, and for some reason,” she said as she lifted the last item in the bag, “rosehip oil.”

“Thanks, Lex. Gus is in the living room,” Anya said as she busied herself over the stove again.

“What’s the rosehip oil for?” Lexa asked. Anya’s hand paused as it stirred something in a pot.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” she said lightly. Lexa saw the purse of Anya’s lips and decided not to push. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and followed the sounds of a football game in the den. Gus was sitting on the couch, watching the TV with an intensity that could have set the screen on fire. As she passed him, he raised his giant hand to bump fists with her.

“What’s the score?” she asked as she plopped down next to him.

“Giants are down 17-13 with a minute to go. Third down, eight yards from the line,” he said as he rubbed his chin. She “oohed” at the screen and took a sip from her bottle. She watched quietly as the quarterback snapped a short, clean pass to a receiver at the far corner. Gus jumped up from his seat and whooped loud, a fist pumping high into the air. Lexa rolled her eyes but couldn't help a smile. Gus was a storm of a man, but the kind that felt like protection, the kind that rumbled and rocked you to sleep.

“Hey, neanderthal, it’s dinner time!” Anya yelled from the kitchen. “Bring your mini-me, too.” Gus chuckled at her words and cocked his head at the doorway to tell Lexa to follow. They made their way towards the smell of a warm dinner.

Gus walked over to Anya to give her a kiss on the cheek and grab the plates for the table. The size difference between them was almost funny—Anya being all lithe and smooth lines and Gus being the very definition of muscle and man. Lexa always admired how they seemed to move in tandem, like they were always in sync and existed _together_.

It made something swim in her chest.

They were quiet as they fell into the familiar rhythm of their dinners. Lexa set the silverware, Anya plated the food, and Gus brought it all to the table. The conversation flowed easy and comfortable while they ate, the subjects woven with warm words like _this is delicious_ and _could you pass the salad_ and _careful it’s hot._

To Lexa, this was family.

“So, Lexa,” Gus said, swallowing a mouthful of food, “have you heard that Anya’s going to be promoted to Sergeant soon?” Lexa’s head whipped up to Anya, who was too busy glaring at her husband to meet Lexa’s surprised gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She was mildly offended that Anya hadn’t told her as soon as she’d heard. Anya just shook her head slightly and looked down at her food.

“It’s not certain yet. And I haven’t exactly decided if it’s _good_ news or not,” she said as she took a drink from her glass. Lexa glanced at Gus and saw something in his eyes. It looked like concern. Worry, maybe.

“Well,” Lexa said, “a promotion’s a promotion. I’m happy for you.” A corner of Anya’s mouth raised in a small, grateful smile. She took a breath before raising her fork for another bite.

“So are you going to tell us how you managed to hurt yourself so badly?” she asked. Lexa flushed at the question, not knowing how to answer. She pulled her bad hand under the table self-consciously, but she knew that Gus and Anya’s calculating eyes had already seen and taken note of the bandages.

She could’ve brushed it off with a simple _I wasn’t paying attention_ or _it’s nothing_ , explain that accidents were an occupational hazard and pretend that they were just that—accidents.

But she couldn’t bring herself to say any of it because that was lying and Lexa didn’t lie.

Lexa felt like the gauze wrapped around her hand and knee were physical manifestations of the force that had barreled her way into her life, changing her and changing everything. They were _Clarke_ and she was not nothing and she was not an accident.

Anya and Gus exchanged a glance at Lexa’s sudden silence and the subtle blush rising in her cheeks. Gus’s eyebrows raised.

“Either someone’s beating you up, which I highly _highly_ doubt, or—“ he leaned closer to Lexa for good measure, “our little Lex is tripping up because of a girl.”

“I-I, well, I can…it’s not that—“ Lexa violently sputtered as the words tangled up her tongue.

Anya just eyed her carefully as she chewed her food while Gus smirked wickedly.

“Wow, try not to hurt yourself,” Anya said. “How long has it been?” Lexa scratched an eyebrow with her thumb and tried valiantly to force the blood from her cheeks.

“Um, a couple of days. Not long at all, really.” Anya continued to pin her with a look and Lexa did her best to keep her face expressionless.

“Who is it? Tell me it isn’t a freshman.”

“Oh god, Anya, no.” She paused, weighing the words in her mouth. “She’s the interim nurse.”

Gus and Anya’s eyes flicked to each other as they exchanged a look. The surprised silence was deafening, but Lexa couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in her ears.

“That explains the injuries. But interim?” Gus added. “That sounds temporary.”

“It’s—It’s hard to explain.”

“Do your best,” Anya deadpanned.

Lexa swirled her fork through her food. She felt like she was thirteen, getting grilled about her date to the dance. But this was real and Clarke was real and she’d had enough of things being hidden and secret. She wanted this out in the open.

“She’s Griffin’s daughter.”

“What?”

“Her name’s Clarke. Clarke Griffin. She goes to Jaha, but something happened so she’s here for the semester as the interim nurse and she’s staying with her mom. In the house.”

Lexa peeked up at Anya, who was looking at her, quiet and contemplative. She could see the gears churning and braced herself for the onslaught of reprimands and lecturing. How rash this decision was, how irresponsible she was being with her emotions, how it could only end badly. Instead, Anya heaved a sigh and stood, gathering her plate and a few of the dishes on the table.

“Just be careful, Lex. You know what your position entails.”

The few words hit her like a sucker punch.

“I know.” Lexa felt her stomach turn at the thought. She saw Anya glance briefly at Gus, who looked at Lexa with a pensive expression, an elbow leaning on the table and a hand on his beard.

“You know what Gus and I went through. What it took for us to be together.”

Lexa tried not to, but her eyes flicked down to Anya’s stomach. She knew that under the layers of clothing, two large, red scars sat angry and raised on Anya’s skin.

Two gunshots at point blank range.

All three of them knew that those two scars were both the end of the line and the saving grace of Anya’s life. Lexa swallowed roughly.

“Yeah, I know.”

She had forgotten her obligations in the past few days because of Clarke, but was quickly reminded of its enormity as she sat across from Anya. She nodded once, curt and soft, before turning towards the kitchen.

“Good. Then I’m sure you’ll know what to do.”

Gus and Lexa were quiet as they listened to her footsteps pad away. Lexa huffed and leaned forward in her chair, her fingers resting on a spot between her eyebrows.

“Lexa.”

She looked up at Gus’s voice. He smiled lightly, but it was small and it was sad.

“Don’t let her scare you away from your girl. If it feels right and… _real_ , then you should go for it.” He stood, mirroring Anya from just seconds ago. He reached over to take Lexa’s plate and stacked it on top of his.

Gus looked at her for a moment and placed a warm, affectionate hand on her head for a beat before following his wife into the kitchen. But as he reached the doorway, he paused and turned back to Lexa. His eyes were thoughtful and tired, and for the first time, she could see the toll of the last few years on his face.

“Take it from someone who knows how much it can hurt,” he said, a fist resting on the doorjamb. “Not having the chance to be with Anya would’ve been worse than losing her.”

Lexa’s fingers picked slowly at the bandages on her other hand as she watched him walk towards the kitchen. She swallowed roughly, the words settling in the center of her chest. She hadn’t been fair with Clarke, had ignored the looming shadow of her future while she stared at the sun of a girl with caution thrown to the wind. There was a truth and it was her future, but she hadn’t shared it with Clarke because that meant telling her that Lexa wanted her there for it.

That she wanted Clarke to be a part of her future.

It was a big step, a step she hadn’t considered since they had known each other for less than a week. But what they had felt right and Lexa knew it was real, so maybe this was something that Lexa could do. Should do.

She sighed, wishing for the first time in her life that she could be someone else. Someone who didn’t have to deal with the responsibility that came with the uniform and the nameplate she hung next to her bed each night.

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, breathing slow and deep as the weight of her world returned slowly, surely onto her shoulders.

//

“You’re going to catch a cold, Lexa.”

The quiet click of the sliding door was followed by the shuffle of Anya’s shoes on the porch. Lexa shrugged her shoulders lightly.

The breeze nipped and made itself known on the warm skin of her cheeks and hands, but she didn't pay it any mind as she stood quietly in the darkness of the backyard.

“I don't get sick.”

“Up until this afternoon I also thought you don't get hurt, but look at you now.”

“Things happen.”

Anya stood next to her, quiet and calm and wise like the trees around them. She followed the line of Lexa’s sight and looked up at the night sky with her.

“Look, Lex—“ Anya said with a sigh. She braced her hands against the railing of the porch. “I know how I must've sounded during dinner, but you know…..you know what we do and you know what it costs. What it could cost you.”

Lexa focused entirely on keeping her breathing steady. Her eyes were calm and raised high above the tops of the trees, feeling herself floating alongside the stars and far away from the harsh reality of Anya’s words.

Anya looked at her, waiting for a response. When there was none, she breathed out through her nose and turned around to lean the small of her back against the railing. She crossed her arms and tucked her chin against her chest.

“The rosehip oil I asked you to buy for me. It’s for my scars.”

At that, Lexa’s eyes moved to Anya’s. She didn’t look back at her.

“I’ve been having nightmares. It’s weird, really, because I slept like a rock when I first got home. But now, just the thought of the scars makes me just shut down sometimes.”

“Anya—“ Lexa started, but she didn’t let her speak.

“I read somewhere that PTSD can have a delayed reaction. Like, you’re fine for _months_ and then it hits you like a fucking freight train. Something sparks it and it starts burning you up from the inside and it’s all you can do to keep it from showing.” She turned back around.

“When I found out about—when I realized that there’s a baby growing behind those two fucking _holes_ in my body, I felt like I was in pieces.” Anya paused, gathering herself. “I’m pregnant, Lex.”

Lexa’s eyes widened and the words froze in her mouth. She would be ecstatic for Anya, but the devastated look in her face stopped every emotion in its tracks.

“I don’t know why I can’t tell Gus. I think I’m afraid that he’ll be happy. That he’ll be over the moon about it and I won’t feel the same way and that’ll destroy us.” They lapsed into a silence that buzzed in Lexa’s ears. She grappled with her thoughts as she struggled to choose what to say.

Anya was the closest thing she had to a sister. She knew her better than she knew herself sometimes, so seeing her this lost and distraught was physically painful.

She was suddenly reminded of the sight of Anya laying in a hospital bed, tubes and wires coming out of every inch of her. The bandages that had to be changed twice a day to keep from infection. The two mangled wounds on her stomach that she refused to look at for weeks.

She remembered how hysterical Gus had been when they got the call. Anya had been airlifted into DC Memorial and rushed into surgery. Five hours later, the doctors had come out with their scrub caps in their hands and the most painful words Lexa had ever heard in her life. _A 5% chance of survival_. Two shots right into the center of her abdomen. No exit wounds, just two bullets lodged deep and dangerous. A collapsed lung, a perforated liver and stomach, and enough blood loss to make even the most experienced doctors nervous.

But the odds were apparently on their side. The bullets had missed her spinal cord by millimeters. Had missed major arteries by even less. Her lungs held up and the bleeding stopped.

Anya, ever the gambler, had pulled through.

The day she was strong enough to be taken off life support, Lexa and Gus took a trip to the Potomac. With the afternoon wind whipping through their thin layers, Gus walked them over to the middle of a bridge and pulled something out of his back pocket.

The two bullets.

Gus had looked down at his hands, at the small pieces of metal that looked tiny in comparison to the rest of him, and looked at Lexa with sad eyes.

“There are things out there that you just can’t protect the people you love from,” Gus had said quietly. She had begun to cry.

“Lexa,” he said, placing his other hand on her shoulder, “all we can do is stand by them at their best and at their worst. No matter what, right?” She nodded once.

“No matter what.”

Gus took her wrist and placed one of the bullets in the center of her palm. She remembered being surprised at how cold it was. Like ice, despite sitting in Gus’s warm hands.

He wound his arm back like a baseball pitcher and threw the bullet as far as he could. They watched as the tiny glint of metal arced high across the sky and disappeared into the water. Steeling herself, Lexa did the same. She told herself to let her fear sink down to the bottom of the river with the bullet. Anya had survived.

She would survive this, too.

“Nothing could destroy you and Gus,” Lexa said, finally. Anya looked at her with a sad smile.

“You think so?”

“I know so. Your neanderthal loves you too much.” Anya laughed once quietly and the pressure in Lexa’s chest lightened just a bit. She bit her lip before continuing.

“How far along are you?”

“Not long at all. Four weeks.” Lexa nodded.

“Have you decided…what you’re going to do?” She spoke her words carefully, as if they’d break if she wasn’t gentle enough with them. Anya shook her head. Something twisted in Lexa’s gut, but she kept her face as impassive as she could.

“Have you decided what _you’re_ going to do?” Anya asked, pulling Lexa out of her thoughts. She blinked a few times at the question, knowing fully that Anya was avoiding the answer to her question, but she let it go. Only because Lexa now knew her own.

“Yes,” Lexa said, turning to Anya. “I want this. I want her and I’m sure of it.”

When she spotted the slight purse of Anya’s lips, she continued.

“I know what you went through with Gus and I know it won’t be easy. Hell, I don’t even know if she’ll want me if she knows what the future entails. But Anya, this is real and I have to _try._ ” Lexa felt her heartbeat in her fingertips as the words spilled out of her. Making them tangible, saying them out loud was enough to get her heart racing.

Anya sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with a graceful hand. One corner of her mouth rose in a small smile and Lexa felt herself answer with her own.

“When did you get so old?” she asked. Lexa rolled her eyes.

“I’ve always been like this.” Anya laughed in response.

“Not in this sense, no.” She turned to enter the house again, pulling the sides of her sweater close to her. “Get back safe, Lex.” Lexa nodded.

“Say goodnight to Gus for me.” Anya faced her, one hand on the door handle and her smirk back on her lips.

“I will. Now go get your girl.”

//

It was dark and the air was cold, but Lexa felt warm with nerves as she pedaled down the streets. She mentally rehearsed her words, breathing slow and in time with her turn of the wheels on the smooth pavement.

 _Clarke, I know it hasn’t been very long since we met, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life_ —

_Clarke, these past few days have turned my life upside-down and I feel—_

Definitely no.

 _Clarke, run away with me_.

Lexa sighed. That was more like it, but she and the rest of the universe knew that would never happen.

She gripped her handlebars tighter as she leaned slightly into a turn, trying to ignore the flicker of familiarity at the neatly trimmed hedges and trees surrounding the entrance. She looked up at the giant sign overhead.

_Polis Academy_

Lexa felt both comfortable and drained as she passed under the large, brass letters. They glowed a dull gold in the streetlight—whether it was warm or ominous, Lexa couldn’t decide. She felt the shift under her wheels as the concrete of the streets changed into the smooth pavement of the campus grounds.

Polis was safe, but it was all she knew and the gate made her feel that maybe, just maybe, there was a different life out there for her.

Her bike _tick tick ticked_ on in time with her fluttering heartbeat as she made her way to the big house by the flagpole. She saw it emerge into view much earlier than anticipated and her breath caught at the wave of anticipation in her stomach.

This was happening. She was doing this.

She pulled up slowly to the gate and swung a leg over the seat before coming to a stop. She tried her best to recall the words she had thought of earlier, but as expected, her mind was blank. Leaning her bike against the front gate, Lexa stood tall and took a deep breath. She steeled herself for what she was about to do, but couldn’t help smiling just a little at herself.

Corporal Woods, riding up on a bicycle to her crush’s house to declare her love for the girl of her dreams. All she needed was a boombox to blast some awful, sappy song and she’d be golden. (Something slow and from the 90’s probably.)

She shook her hands out and ran them through her hair once, trying to fight the buzz in her fingertips. The light in the living room cast a shadow on the front porch, telling her that Clarke was home and awake. Lexa felt herself falter before stepping up the stairs.

It felt so temporary, so _dangerous._

There was something exciting and awful about giving your heart to someone else for safekeeping. But Clarke was worth the leap of faith, and Lexa was ready to try.

She took steps closer to the door, wondering if it was too late for her to knock, how to start this conversation with Clarke, what to do with her hands. Should she have texted? Called? Thrown pebbles at her window?

She was holding her breath at the barrage of thoughts barreling through her head. Her palms were sweating and she felt like her veins had been replaced with a live wire—it was a cataclysm of fear and excitement and _what ifs_ warring inside her, but Lexa realized that this was what being alive felt like. She leaned forward and rested her forehead on the cool wood of the old door, taking a breath that filled her to her toes.

She could do this. She wanted to do this.

Lexa took a step back, fixing her shirt and shaking out her shoulders once. She lifted a hand to knock on the door, but a flash of something in the window caught her eye.

Dark hair. Much darker than Clarke’s.

Lexa’s mind fizzled in confusion as she approached the window to peek inside.

A girl—tall, brunette, clearly fit—reclined on the living room couch. Next to her, sitting so close, too close, was a sleepy Clarke. Her hair was pulled back from her face, her head resting on a hand that leaned against the back of the sofa. Their legs were tangled together under a blanket and from the way their lips moved slowly, Lexa could tell they spoke in hushed tones.

Something cold began to spread in Lexa’s chest.

The girl leaned in close and said something and Clarke giggled, her face lighting up with delight. Lexa watched with a sinking heart as they dissolved into a fit of laughter, their shoulders shaking and their hands pushing at each other. She couldn’t tell where the girl ended and Clarke began and the feeling shot through her like a bullet.

Lexa faltered backwards at the sight and sound of the two girls as if she had been punched. 

She had never seen Clarke laugh like that. She wondered if she ever would.

There was something so relaxed and comfortable and _easy_ about the way Clarke existed around this girl and it made Lexa nauseous with defeat.

She could never make Clarke feel like that.

Lexa’s breath slowed and the erratic heartbeat from her earlier excitement wore down to a dazed pulse. She still felt it everywhere in her body, but this was different.

It throbbed hard and slow, like an injury.

Something burned cold inside her. Lexa knew what it was.

She welcomed it back like an old friend.

As the numbing ice from the center of her chest spread out, out, out to the tips of her fingers and the bottoms of her feet, Lexa spun neatly on a heel and made her way back down the porch steps.

With vacant, mechanical precision in her movements, she straightened her bike and swung a leg over the seat, immediately taking off on a breakneck pace for the dorms.

She was an idiot for thinking that she and Clarke would be something. There was no denying that Lexa loved Clarke. That much she knew.

But to think that Clarke would love her back? _Could_ love her back?

Now, that was where she went wrong.

Lexa told herself that the tears were from the cold wind whipping at her face. She rode on hard and fast, zooming down the pavement.

Pushing the painful thoughts aside, she felt herself fall back into the detached rhythm of her old life. Her pre-Clarke era. Before everything changed.

Everything was a blur as she locked her bike up by the building and made her way up the stairs. If she slammed the brakes a little too hard and threw her bike into the rack and shut the door a little too loud, no one said anything because it was late and no one else was around.

Lexa was alone.

//

“Raven, I’m tired.”

“Well, suck it up, Griffin, because I’m here to vent about my boy problems and you invited me here for snacks and gossip.” She nodded a chin towards the large, now-empty bowl of popcorn and glared at Clarke. “Snacks have been finished, so now it’s time for gossip.”

“Okay, okay,” Clarke relented, sitting up straighter and resting her head on a lazy hand. “Lay it on me.”

“I need to share with you what this guy said to me the other day and you need to not laugh.”

“I promise.”

Raven looked hesitant for a second, but leaned in close to Clarke.

“He told me that he’s getting a nose job. To ‘perfect his profile’,” she said, lifting her fingers for air quotes.

The words barely registered before a giggle bubbled up Clarke’s chest.

“You’re fucking kidding,” she wheezed out as the laughter spilled out of her. Raven couldn’t help it either and dissolved into a fit, leaning into Clarke as the two of them fell apart.

“I just met him a few weeks ago and he’s—such—a—little—prick,” Raven said between heaving breaths. Clarke nodded and laughed harder, wincing and tearing up at the sheer force of how funny it was.

They both came down from the high, sighing and wiping their eyes and catching their breaths. Clarke smiled at Raven, happy that she had agreed to come by that night and keep her company. It had been nice—just her and one of her best friends catching up.

“Tell me you retaliated.”

“You’re damn right I did. I dropped his sorry ass.”

Clarke threw her hands up in victory and let out a loud whoop. Raven rolled her eyes at her.

“Yeah, yeah. He was always going to be temporary, it just—,“ she paused for a moment. “I think it would’ve been less awful if he said he wanted to insure his hair.”

Clarke nodded with mock seriousness.

“That’s where the real money is.” Raven laughed again and used her arms to shift herself up a bit. She tried her best not to show it, but Clarke spotted the wince when she repositioned her leg.

“You alright?” Clarke asked gently. Raven just nodded.

“I’m fine. The leg just gets a bit cold and stiff if I don’t move it every now and then,” she said, settling back into the couch. “Thanks, by the way, for the blanket. Again.”

A small smile crept up Clarke’s lips as she sighed through her nose.

“Don’t worry about it.”

She had worried about it being awkward when she invited Raven over earlier that night, but she told herself that she was going to do her best to make things right. Work hard and get her life back on track. She was a new person, all thanks to Lexa.

 _Lexa_.

The name reverberated in her chest as she was reminded of the girl. To be honest, she had invited Raven because she needed something else to occupy her time. Not that she didn’t love Raven or want to spend time with her, but waiting by her phone for hours in anticipation of a text was getting pretty pathetic, even for Clarke.

Before she could help it, her eyes glanced over to her phone on the coffee table. The screen was dark. Still nothing.

“Alright, that’s it,” Raven said suddenly, surprising Clarke, “you met someone.”

‘What?”

“You have looked at your phone at least 100 times in the last hour. You’re worse with technology than Octavia, so I’m going to go ahead and guess that you’re waiting on a text from someone. So save us some time, skip the denial, and tell me whose bones you want to jump here on this godforsaken campus.”

Clarke just sat and stared at Raven for a moment, completely bowled over by the clear statement. She blinked a few times and gathered herself, pulling at a few loose strands of hair and rubbing her lips with her fingers. She sighed.

“Her name is Lexa. She’s my year and she’s a corporal. She has this great brown hair and these eyes and she’s really _really_ pretty. She’s smart and she’s strong and she’s made me stronger and I think I love her.”

Clarke waited for the inevitable blush to rise on her face, but none came.

Raven’s eyes widened at the last words. She made no attempt to hide her surprise and Clarke squirmed in her seat as she waited for her friend to respond.

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Uh, a lot’s happened here at Camp Polis.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Wo—“

“Okay, you’re going to have to say something besides ‘wow’ for me.”

“Sorry, I just—that’s big, Clarke. That much? You like her that much?”

Clarke thought for a moment, but her answer was immediate.

“Yeah. Raven, it’s real.”

Her friend nodded slowly, looking at her with soft eyes.

“Well then, I’m happy for you.”

Clarke smiled in thanks and rested her head against the soft cushion of the couch. Her eyes drifted to the shadows outside the window over Raven’s shoulder.

She could just barely make out the light of the moon in the sky. She wondered for a moment where Lexa was, what she was doing, what she was thinking about. Sighing once, Clarke looked down at her phone again.

Still dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the pain hurts so good. (pls don't kill me)
> 
> edit: a lot of you have already left comments about Lexa's reaction to seeing Clarke with another girl, but I can tell you that it was my intention. there will be more explanation in the next chapter (I promise) but understand now that Lexa was at her most vulnerable, like ever, when she was going to Clarke. anxiety, nerves, all that good stuff--very real and very effective. as always, I appreciate the feedback!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is stubborn and no one wants to talk except Octavia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry belated christmas and happy early new year, everyone!
> 
> a special thanks to hedahearteyes for helping me out when I was choking on self-doubt. what a great human being & friend.

_I was promised a text last night, but I guess—_

_So how was your “something” last night—_

Clarke held the backspace with a frustrated sigh, watching as the blinking line erased yet another sad attempt at a text. She tossed her phone down on the counter and leaned back in her chair.

She was being dumb, really. She hadn’t talked with Lexa since lunchtime the day before and to be honest, it was killing her. Lexa had promised to text her, but all through her time with Raven, her phone stayed silent. She’d deny it if asked, but she fell asleep with her phone in her hand, waiting for it to buzz before her eyes closed.

She had blinked against the harsh light of her screen as soon as she woke up to check for a notification, had left it on the sink while she brushed her teeth and did her hair, sat it on her dresser while she changed into her uniform.

Her phone stayed quiet.

To add insult to injury, when Clarke had walked into the office that morning, the cot was the first thing she saw. It just sat there, taunting her, reminding her of yesterday and ruining any attempt of keeping her mind off of the corporal.

It really wasn’t like her to get this hung up on someone, but this was different.

Lexa was different.

She spun slowly in her office chair, head back and mind contemplating the merits of sacrificing her dignity for a short conversation with a pretty girl.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the counter.

Clarke grabbed her phone and unlocked the screen in record time.

But, of course, the universe was messing with her and playing cruel tricks because the first text she received all morning was from her mom.

 **Forgot to mention that I’ll be bringing**  
**back company once the convention is**  
**over. VIP gov official so please be on**  
**your best behavior. Hope you’re  
** **making good choices xx**

She groaned at how quickly her excitement could be quashed by a single text from her mother. She typed out a quick response and put her phone down with a frown.

 **when am I not the poster child**  
**of perfection? (kidding, of course)  
** **have a good time & get home safe**

She locked her phone with a click and put it down next to her, falling back into the chair.

She felt like a child, waiting on Lexa to text her like a lovesick puppy. She felt helpless and—

_No._

She refused to feel like this and _dammit_ she was going to do something about it.

With newfound determination, she grabbed her phone, typed out a message in a rapid-fire stream of _clicks_ and sent it off with a whoosh before she could second-guess herself.

Satisfied by the sudden rush of courage, she sat back once more and tried to ignore the bundle of nerves in her stomach.

She had a gut feeling that something was… _off_ , but she had no idea why or what it was.

“Excuse me?”

Clarke’s head whipped embarrassingly fast to the doorway at the sound of a voice. Standing at the entrance of the office was a guy cradling his wrist against his chest.

A patient.

“Yes, can I help you?” Clarke asked, caught off-guard by the possibility of treating someone other than a certain corporal.

“Yeah,” he said, walking towards her, “I tripped in the middle of the obstacle course and fell on my wrist pretty hard.”

Clarke nodded and stood to take a closer look. It was slightly swollen and warm to the touch.

“Nothing a little ice can’t fix,” she said, walking to the freezer to pull out a cold pack. She wrapped the wrist with the pack and some tape, staying quiet the whole time despite the flurry of thoughts in her head.

The boy was quiet and only groaned once while she wrapped him up. He nodded in thanks when she finished and sat patiently as she retrieved her student log.

“Okay, I just have to write some stuff down. Name and rank?” she said, clicking her pen a couple of times.

“Monty Green. Uh, cadet. Grounds cadet? Maybe just cadet, I think.” He smiled lightly and Clarke found herself smiling too.

“I’m not too sure either, but I’ll trust you and just use ‘cadet’.” He nodded once in response.

“Okay so, try not to use your wrist too much for the next few days. Leave the ice on for half an hour or until a little after it goes numb. Let it rest completely today and make sure to ice it tomorrow too,” Clarke rattled off. Monty nodded again.

“I can get ice at the mess hall,” he said. Clarke smiled.

“You’re all set to go then, Cadet Green.”

“Thank you, uh—“

“Clarke.”

“Ah, thank you, Clarke.”

“You’re welcome.” He left quietly and once again, Clarke found herself alone with her thoughts.

She picked up her phone and watched her reflection on the dark screen, her thumb resting on the home button. Her mouth was set in a hard line, her eyes blue even in black of the glass. With a sigh, she set it down. Lexa was reducing her to a girly pile of thirst and she needed to just calm the f—

“Are you the nurse?”

Clarke looked up at the question and saw a tall, blonde girl at the door.

“Yes, I am. Can I help you?” She stood and watched as the girl walked carefully into the room.

“I fell backwards off the climbing wall and landed on my ass and elbow, which is not the ideal combination.” She rotated her arm to show Clarke a nasty, deep scrape. Both girls grimaced at the sight.

“Oh yeah, that looks pretty bad. Take a seat,” Clarke said, walking to the counter to get some supplies. When she turned around, the girl was still standing in the same spot. She laughed, slightly embarrassed.

“To be honest, I don’t think I can sit.” The girl blushed slightly and Clarke just smiled.

“No problem. Do you think you can lay on your stomach?”

“I can try.” She walked carefully over to the cot as Clarke got another ice pack out of the freezer. She saw the the girl had settled in, her head resting on the back of her other hand and the injured one at her side. She blew at a lock of hair that rested on her nose and Clarke realized that she was really pretty.

“So before you fix me up, can I know your name?” the girl asked with a smile.

“Clarke.”

“Harper,” she responded. Clarke gently placed the ice pack on her lower back and frowned as she hissed in pain.

“Sorry,” she whispered. Harper shook her head slightly.

“Not your fault,” she murmured. “Wow, that hurts like a bitch.”

“It will for a while. But you were able to walk here so I’m pretty sure it’s just a really bad bruise. I don’t think you broke anything.” Clarke twisted the cap off of the rubbing alcohol and poured some onto a wad of cotton.

“Now this,” she said, leaning into Harper’s elbow, “is really going to sting, so get ready.” She dabbed at the scrape and tried not to notice the sharp intake in pain. And although the situation called for anything other than pleasant feelings, it reminded her of Lexa and she felt a flutter in her stomach.

She wondered again why it’d been radio silence for almost a whole day, which was unlike them ever since they started texting. It was weird, and she shouldn’t—

“Well, at least some good came out of me falling from a 50-foot wall,” Harper said, interrupting her thoughts, “I got to come here and spend time with you.” She looked at Clarke under slightly lowered eyelashes and Clarke realized with a start that she was flirting with her.

“Ah well, y’know, just doing my job,” Clarke said, trying to avoid her gaze.

“I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Oh, uh I’m new,” she responded, her tone flat. Harper eyed her for a moment before pursing her lips in thought.

“Either I pegged you wrong or you already have someone,” she said, catching Clarke off-guard. Spotting the blush rising on her cheeks, she smiled. “And considering how red you’re getting, I’m guessing it’s that you have a girlfriend.”

“No, I mean, well not a girlfriend _persay_ , but—“

“Save it, cutie. If she has you sputtering like that, then she’s a Someone,” she said with a laugh. Clarke laughed once and finished up taping the gauze on her elbow.

“Well, that’s embarrassing and entirely unprofessional,” she said, resting her hands on her knees.

“We’ve got professionalism spilling out of our ears around here, Clarke. Really no need for more.”

The two girls smiled at the honesty of the statement, but were interrupted at the sound of knocking on the door. Clarke turned around and gasped.

It was Octavia all but carrying a girl with a very severe limp.

“What the hell?” Clarke exclaimed. One corner of Octavia’s lips rose in a bitter smile.

“I brought you some business,” she said, leading the girl into the office. Clarke rushed over to help Octavia, and they gently sat the girl down on a chair.

“My god, O, your forehead,” Clarke said, pulling Octavia in by the shoulders and eyeing the rising black-and-blue at the top of her head. She grimaced as Clarke touched it with careful fingers.

“It’s nothing. Fox here probably needs your help the most. She twisted her ankle really bad,” Octavia said, gesturing towards the girl sitting next to her. Clarke kneeled down, but she didn’t need to look too close to see the harsh swelling around the girl’s right ankle. She immediately went to retrieve some supplies.

“Jesus. With you guys, that’s four people injured today alone and that’s more than I’ve had in a week!” She punctuated her words with the slam of the cabinet doors. “Not that I don’t appreciate being saved from death by boredom, but I’d rather it not be because people are getting severely injured.”

“I’d hardly consider it getting ‘severely injured’, Clarke,” Octavia said, trying her best to seem unaffected by the massive bruise on her head.

“Speak for yourself,” Fox and Harper answered simultaneously.

“It’s just the Minefield. They’re making us run it non-stop,” Octavia said as she sat down. She rested her forehead in her hands.

“The Minefield?” Clarke asked, as she dug through the drawers. Finding what she needed, she returned to Fox and raised her leg onto a footstool.

“The training obstacle course,” Harper answered from the cot, “or a carefully constructed trail of torture and pain.”

“It usually isn’t too bad, but the time was cut down to three minutes instead of the usual five, so everyone’s hauling ass trying to get through it,” Octavia murmured.

“Not to mention it was doubled up with hand-to-hand combat where the losers have 200 push-ups by sundown,” Fox added, eyes closed and head leaning back against the wall.

“My god. What the hell is going on?” Clarke said. She sat with a huff and gently placed some ice on Fox’s ankle. She hissed in something between pain and relief and breathed out slowly.

“Well, I’m pretty sure Corporal Woods is trying to kill us,” Harper said. Clarke’s hands froze at the name.

“What?”

“Corporal Woods. She’s the one in charge of cadet training today and she’s on a rampage.”

“Yeah, cadets are getting hurt _left_ and _right_ because she’s pissed about something,” Octavia said, punctuating her words with a meaningful look at Clarke. “Any thoughts?”

Clarke did her best to avoid her friend’s gaze, focused instead on sitting up and gathering her hair into a ponytail.

“I have no idea, O,” she said, trying to ignore the confused look Fox and Harper gave each other, “but I’ll worry about that later.” She waved Octavia over to sit in front of her and clicked on her pen light. The bump on her head was enough to concern Clarke, so she wanted to check for a concussion.

There was another flutter in her chest at the memory of doing the same with Lexa just a few days ago. Something was wrong—she now knew for sure—but for the moment, she didn’t want to think about it.

She had work to do.

//

_Tweeeeeeeeeeee!_

The shrill blow of the whistle pierced the air and Lexa watched as most of the cadets collapsed in exhaustion. She crossed her arms and began walking slowly through the group.

“Only nine of you were able to complete the Minefield in under three minutes. Considering there’s 47 of you, that’s pathetic,” she sneered through her teeth. She lifted her wrist to check her watch and dropped it in the next beat. She eyed the group as menacingly as possible, but felt something inside her give at the sight of all the cadets so worn out. She took a breath and lifted her chin.

“You have twenty minutes. Rest up and get ready for the next round,” she barked. A chorus of relieved sighs answered her.

To be honest, she was probably working them too hard. Anger had raged in her like an inferno that morning. She had shouted the training orders before thinking twice—she had just wanted to work everyone to the bone, to train everyone as hard as possible because she knew it would distract her.

She felt scorched to her very core by the feelings swirling inside. It drained her, really, keeping the anger burning, fueling the fire. But every time she felt like she was calming down, someone got hurt and had to go to the nurse’s office, and the reminder of who sat in those four walls was enough to ignite her once again.

She stalked towards the benches, but was stopped when Lincoln jogged up to her.

“Hey, Lexa.” She nodded once at him. Refused to look at him. She realized suddenly that she hadn’t looked anyone in the eyes all day.

“Lexa,” he repeated, trying to catch her gaze. She didn’t let him.

“Is everything okay?” he asked when she didn’t say anything. She cleared her throat.

“Why wouldn’t everything be okay?” Her voice sounded robotic even to her own ears. His eyebrows furrowed.

“I mean, I don’t know. You’re being really hard on the cadets. Way more than usual, at least.”

“I’m getting them ready. Training them like I’m supposed to.” She was looking at a spot just over his right shoulder, but she could see that he was concerned. It made her fold even deeper into herself.

“Okay, well, is something wrong?” he asked. She felt the words threaten to spill out. _Yes, everything is wrong_ and I _think this is what heartbreak feels like_ and _I don’t know what to do_.

Instead, she pursed her lips and swallowed them all like bitter pills, responding with the well-rehearsed words of deflection.

“Nothing’s wrong, Lincoln. Everything is exactly as it’s supposed to be.”

And before he could say anything else that threatened to break apart her resolve, Lexa stepped around him and marched off the fields.

Being away from the loud noises and commotion of training seemed to clear her mind and for the first time all day, she let it wander.

It was the unfairness of it all. She wasn’t mad at Clarke as much as she was upset about the bitter taste of reality.

Clarke had been her breath of fresh air, her chance at some sort of freedom and she had been ready to take the fall for the chance at keeping it, but seeing her the night before with—

She closed her eyes at the memory.

That kind of freedom was not free for Lexa to have, and deep, deep down inside, she knew it wasn’t fair to keep Clarke from being happy.

That was the thing. Clarke would make her happy. Happier than she had ever been and ever would be, but she didn’t know if she could do the same for Clarke.

Seeing her so carefree and comfortable the night before had broken her conviction. Yes, Lexa loved her, wanted her in every definition. But who was she to keep Clarke from any of that? To ask her to stay by her side through everything that came with the uniform Lexa put on every morning?

Polis was a well-ordered, coordinated machine and Lexa was a piece to the puzzle and Clarke didn’t fit into any of it. It was that simple.

But that didn’t mean she was mature enough not to be upset about it all.

Everything that came with her place at the academy was harder to swallow after she had a taste of Clarke and she directed all of her frustration at the one person who could make it all okay.

 _How self-destructive_ , she thought. _How appropriate for me_.

She continued walking off the field, her eyes trained on the ground. She watched the green of the grass shift to concrete, but stopped suddenly when a pair of feet stood in her way.

Looking up, her heart hiccuped at the sight.

It was Clarke.

Clarke in all of her light, daytime glory. Her hair was up in a ponytail and her soft hands were at her sides and her eyes—her eyes—were bright and sad and blue.

“Well hello, corporal.” Her voice filled her ears and despite all her anger, Lexa felt herself relax at the sound.

“Clarke.” She tried to keep her voice as even as possible.

“I texted you earlier today,” Clarke said. It was meant to be a statement, but came out sounding like a question.

“I’ve been busy.” Her tone was clipped and professional. Lexa silently lauded herself for being so perfectly heartless.

Clarke opened her mouth to say something but Lexa’s seriousness made her falter. She hesitated, bringing a hand up to fiddle with the top button of her shirt, her other hand resting beneath its elbow.

Lexa could see that Clarke was upset, which only made it harder for her to school her expression into something closer to uncaring.

“I, uh, came to ask why I’ve had four injured cadets in the last 30 minutes.” She looked straight at her, but Lexa kept her eyes trained on Clarke’s hands, toying at the top button.

“It is not my fault they made mistakes in the obstacle course.”

“Yeah, but it seems that you’re being a bit unreasonable during training,” she countered. Lexa barely held back a scoff. Her eyes shot up to Clarke’s to challenge her words, but she immediately regretted it. She physically felt the bright blues pierce her own, but she held her ground.

“And how would you know anything about that, Clarke?”

“By the fact that I’ve had only _one_ patient in the last week, and all of a sudden, I have a bunch come in with pretty serious injuries,” she said, aggravated partly by the situation and mostly by Lexa’s refusal to show anything other than control. Lexa breathed in and out through her nose, steeling herself.

“I don’t tell you how to do your job, Clarke, so don’t tell me how to do mine,” Lexa responded, imagining herself to be a statue. Heavy, impossibly strong marble that _would not_ crumble. Clarke crossed her arms then, her eyes sharp and the anger visible in her face.

“You’re being _unreasonable_ , Lexa,” Clarke said. She took a breath. “Is there something wrong?” Another pause. “You can talk to me.”

Lexa almost broke then. She almost just spilled everything she had been thinking— _who was the one who could make you smile like that_ and _I gave up before I even gave myself a chance_ and _I don’t know what to do_. Instead, she heard herself voice the exact opposite.

“There’s nothing to say.”

She watched as the hurt flashed on Clarke’s face, her mouth opening slightly. But just as quickly, she pursed her lips and clenched her jaw and looked Lexa straight in the eye, the frustration rolling off her in waves.

“Why don’t you stop and consider who you’re hurting then?” At that, Lexa’s hands balled into fists at her sides and her chest burned with hurt and the _unfairness_ of Clarke’s words. She felt her face fall at the sudden surge in her chest and closed her eyes for a moment.

“Go back to your office, Clarke,” she said, opening her eyes slowly. Clarke started to speak before Lexa cut her off.

“You don’t belong here.”

Clarke’s eyebrows raised and furrowed, her face flickering through a whole mess of emotions at once. Surprise, confusion, hurt. Lexa did everything she could to keep her expression blank, her eyes empty, her heart cold.

Before Clarke could respond or she could say anything more, Lexa turned a heel and walked right back onto the field towards her troop.

The feelings washed over her suddenly, and she knew without turning back that the expression on Clarke’s face would mirror her own.

It was anger. Fear. Embarrassment. The vulnerability of wanting to give up your heart and the pain of not having the chance to. It was all of the instability and anxiety that thundered in Lexa and she felt helpless against it.

Was she being unreasonable? Probably. But she had no desire to face the problem. If she looked the other way long enough and ignored its sad, blue eyes and the deep timbre of its voice, it would go away. Eventually. She’d move on and it’d move on and Lexa would be back to the life she knew she had to lead.

Eventually.

//

“I’m just saying,” Fox said between bites, “I think something happened.” Harper shook her fork at her in agreement.

“She’s mean and cold, but today was something else,” she added. Monty nodded along with her, chewing his sandwich quietly. Octavia watched her friends eat their lunches and discuss it all in silence, struggling with keeping her best friend’s personal life a secret. She remembered how lost Clarke had looked at the mention of Lexa earlier that day in her office and wondered what the _fuck_ was going on.

“Don’t you think so, Octavia?”

Her head whipped up.

“What?” she asked. Monty nudged her.

“Don’t you think something’s going on with Corporal Woods?” he repeated.

“Oh, yeah. Maybe? I don’t know,” she scrambled. Fox and Harper exchanged a look again and Octavia berated herself for her inability to lie properly.

Jasper shook his head, a corner of his lips raising deep into his cheek.

“Nah. I think that’s just her. The epitome of _heartless,_ ” he said, mimicking a robot for good measure. Octavia elbowed him hard and smirked when he doubled over in pain.

“You’re just bitter because you lost in hand-to-hand,” she teased. Everyone else in the group had won their matches.

“Hey, _I’m_ fine with it. My arms, however, are not.” He hugged his biceps in pain and they all laughed.

Octavia looked up for a moment and spotted Clarke enter the mess hall and get in line for lunch. She waved high above her head and Clarke saw her right away, raising a hand in recognition.

Even from across the room, she could see a sad bend to Clarke’s shoulders and the slow way she moved. Something was seriously upsetting her, and it killed Octavia to see her like that.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone walk in through the double doors.

It was Lexa.

She watched as the corporal weaved through a crowd exiting the mess hall. She watched as she went to get in line and spotted Clarke just ahead of her.

She watched as Lexa froze and immediately turned to leave.

In a split second, Lexa was out of the cafeteria and Clarke hadn’t even realized.

Octavia’s mouth dropped open in surprise, her fork hanging from her hand as she tried to understand what had happened. The gears in her head spun and spun, trying to figure out what could’ve happened in just one day.

“Hey, guys,” Clarke said, setting her tray down next to her. Octavia smiled lightly at Clarke, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Uh, Octavia,” Jasper asked, “why is the nurse sitting with us?” Octavia elbowed him again.

“This is Clarke and she is my best friend. She’s just working here for a little while,” she said. She glared at Jasper. “Be nice.”

He raised both hands in mock surrender.

“Always. Besides, I think she already knows all of us,” he said.

“Unfortunately for you guys, yes I do,” Clarke said. They all laughed and started chatting about the military history paper on Sun Tzu due the next day. Octavia took the chance to turn to Clarke and whisper to her.

“Okay, so something’s wrong between you two. What’s going on?”

“Apparently nothing,” Clarke said with a shrug. She pushed her salad around with a fork.

“Oh. So you guys are okay?” she asked, confused. Clarke shook her head.

“No O, according to her, there’s nothing between us.” Octavia took a deep breath.

“Well, why don’t you just _talk_ to her? Something’s definitely off on her side.”

“We talked. It went bad. Really bad.”

“Yeah, but—“

“Octavia, she made it painfully clear. She doesn’t want to talk about what’s actually going on so I don’t want to talk to her, period.” Clarke took a big bite of her food to end the conversation and Octavia hummed in frustration. There was definitely a problem, but Clarke and Lexa were too stubborn to face it. She chewed her sandwich thoughtfully and considered her options.

Maybe she could help them out.

//

The afternoon block of training was, thankfully, much more manageable than the morning. No cadets were injured and most of the were able to walk off the field, which was a big improvement. As Octavia made her way towards the buildings, she spotted who she was looking for. She jogged to catch up and immediately stood at attention in front of her.

“Corporal Woods,” she all but yelled. Lexa, who had been deep in thought, flinched in surprise.

Her expression hardened when she recognized who it was.

“Blake.” With the single word acknowledgement, she continued walking.

“Wait!” Octavia called after her, “corporal, I have to speak to you about something.”

“I, on the other hand, have nothing to talk to you about,” Lexa said over her shoulder. Octavia walked quickly to stop her again.

“Please, corporal, just a minute. Permission to speak freely?”

“Permission denied.” She walked around her again.

“It’s about Clarke!” she exclaimed, almost desperate. Lexa froze at the name, turning around to Octavia. Her eyes had turned cold.  

“Blake, unless you’re a masochist who enjoys punishment, I’d suggest you stop talking and _mind your own business_.” The corporal’s voice was low and meant to terrify, but Octavia stood her ground. Lexa didn’t want to listen, but she wasn’t about to give her a choice.

“She’s hurt. Like really hurt. She doesn’t know what happened or why you’ve shut her out—“

“Two laps around campus. Now.”

“—and if you could just _talk_ to her or even give her a chance to—“

“That’s three.”

“—figure out why you’re being like this—“

“Four. Do you want to go for fi—wait, what?” Lexa said, Octavia’s words slowly catching up to her.

“Do you want me to repeat all of that or will that earn me more laps?” Octavia said, not even trying to keep the sarcasm out of her words. Lexa just stared at her incredulously.

“Why _I’m being like this?_ ” she breathed. “As if I’m acting like this out of nowhere, without a reason, just because I’m mean and cold and whatever all of you call me?” Her voice began to raise, but she caught herself and closed her eyes, as if she was trying to calm herself down. For once, Octavia was silent, so surprised at her outburst that she couldn’t find the words to respond.

Lexa opened her mouth to speak, but shook her head instead, her eyes opening slowly and facing the ground.

“If she thinks that, then my words stand. There’s nothing to say.” With a beat of silence, Lexa pushed past her and started walking towards the dorms.

Octavia stood there, trying to make sense of what had happened, what Lexa had meant. Something specific had happened—something that Clarke did or Lexa learned or saw or _whatever_ and that was what had completely destroyed what they had between them.

“Fuck,” she whispered, absentmindedly touching the still-tender bruise on her forehead. Whatever was between Clarke and Lexa was serious and she was no closer to fixing the problem than she was before that (very) short talk. With a sigh, she decided to make her way back to her room as well.

 _Shit,_ she realized suddenly, _does Lexa really expect me to run all those laps?_

//

Clarke sat at her desk, chin in hand, absentmindedly doodling in her sketchbook. The house was silent save for the quiet squeaks and groans that echoed the age of the old house. Her window was dark and she felt entirely alone in the night.

Lexa’s words hadn’t stopped repeating in her head since their confrontation earlier that day.

_There’s nothing to say._

But Lexa’s eyes had said the complete opposite. There was a storm of thoughts and emotions behind them, but she refused to let Clarke know what was going on.

She thought back to the night before. She had a “thing”—a very _vague_ “thing” and she wondered if that was the culprit. She had spent the entire night with Raven wondering in the back of her mind what Lexa was keeping from her. It had seemed like nothing, but maybe last night was the key to why Lexa had done a complete 180 in a matter of hours.

Her phone buzzed next to her and Clarke’s heart leapt to her throat.

Clicking the screen open, she saw it was a message from Octavia.

 **you srsly need to talk to**  
**Corporal Cold. she’s upset at**  
**YOU about something but idk** **  
** **what.**

Clarke stared incredulously at the text.

 **ME? I didn’t do anything  
** **to her!**

 **she’s the one** **who’s acting  
****like this out** **of nowhere**

She huffed at the sudden rise in frustration. _Lexa_ was the one who had acted like a completely different person that morning. Clarke had been pining for her since the minute she left her office the day before. What could’ve possibly happened in that time frame that would make Le—

Her phone buzzed again.

 **that’s not what she thinks.**  
**please. for the sake of**  
**everyone’s health and**  
**safety, be the bigger  
** **person and**

**JUST**

**TALK**

**TO**

**HER**

The chain of buzzes thundered in her hand and she sighed as the consecutive texts popped up on her screen. Her fingers hovered above the screen as she considered her response.

 **you really think that’ll do  
** **anything?**

She waited as the three blinking dots appeared.

 **maybe, maybe not. but if you**  
**really like her that much, then**  
**you need to at least try, C.**  
**something is seriously**  
**upsetting her, so I think you**  
**owe it to yourself to find out  
** **what it is.**

Clarke sighed again and leaned back in her chair. She typed out a response and set her phone down.

 **you’re right. I’ll text you  
** **later.**

She looked out her window for a moment, watching the dull glow of the lights that illuminated the sidewalks. It was late, campus was quiet, and Lexa was probably in her room. Her words from earlier echoed in Clarke’s head again.

She stood suddenly, grabbing a jacket and her sneakers by the bed. She pulled them on as she got to the door and breathed once, her hand resting on the knob.

There was _plenty_ to say and _goddammit_ , they were going to talk.

With a jerk, she pulled the door open and walked into the night.

//

Lexa laid in her bed, boots and uniform still on, with her phone in one hand and the other tucked under her cheek.

She was stewing by herself, wallowing in her misery. All her bunkmates were out with their friends, but Lexa quickly found that she was in even less of a mood for social interaction than usual.

She stared at the message open on her phone, as she had been for the past hour.

**call me crazy, but I miss you.**

The text from Clarke that she had mentioned earlier that day. So short, so simple, but enough to make Lexa taste something similar to regret on her tongue.

She had been _so close_. So unbearably close to a chance at happiness, but her anxiety had taken over. Seeing Clarke with that other girl for just a moment was enough to break Lexa apart and send her running.

The anger that had consumed her had reduced to a sadness that burned like embers in the pit of her stomach.

In the daytime, with her uniform spotless and her hair immaculate and her boots shiny, it was easy to pretend that she made the right choice and that it would be better, easier even, without Clarke.

But there, in the dead of night with her hair out of its braid and her shirt pulled out and all but curled up in her bed, she felt the dejection in her bones.

This was her doing and she’d have to live with the choice. She repeated the words again and again and tried to believe them.

_It’s for the best._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually already written like 3k of the next chapter, so the next update will be much sooner than usual. the first two scenes need to be together and it was RIDICULOUSLY long if I kept it in this chapter, so I made the executive decision to cut it at around 6k. 
> 
> find me @ei8htballer on tumblr & twitter. yell & I will listen attentively.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke comes across a special stranger and Lexa finally decides to spill her guts. 
> 
> (Also, her bunkmates are gifts to this world.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> praise be to the clexa gods, for we have seen the reunion. I was very much inspired and cranked the rest of this out today. 
> 
> (I can't decide if it's more pain or fluff, so I'll leave that to you.)
> 
> edit: over 2000 kudos??? ohmygod??? thank you guys for the love. like, seriously wow all of you are gr8

Campus was dark, and Anya was never one for broody walks alone at night, but she really needed the fresh, cold air to help clear her mind.

She had called Gus earlier, explaining that there were some issues that required her attention and files that needed, er, filing. To grab some dinner on his own and not wait up for her.

Wearing her civilian clothes—boots, jeans, a sweater with sleeves entirely too big and warm, a thick scarf wrapped around her neck—she had decided to wander around the grounds, one arm resting protectively around her stomach and the other hand switching every now and then between her lips and her hair.

She wound her way through campus, counting steps between lines of concrete and puffing small clouds with her breath as she thought and wondered and worried and let herself feel everything that needed to be felt. She was never good at emotions—damn her for passing that trait onto Lexa—but she knew that she needed some time to think.

Out there, by herself, she felt both safe and alone in her decision.

She turned another corner, but stopped when she spotted something at the edge of her sight.

A girl. Sitting on the steps in front of the dorms.

She sat with her knees tucked in close, her hands in the sleeves of a jacket that was way too thin for the chill and her blonde hair tied high in a ponytail.

Anya slowly walked closer, considering asking her if something was wrong or at least berating her for being outside without proper uniform.

She sat there, arms crossed over her knees and threw her head back with a deep sigh. The large cloud of her warm breath swirled around her, and Anya watched as she groaned and buried her face in her sleeves.

She was obviously in distress and Anya felt a moment’s worth of pity. No, it was sympathy. Definitely sympathy.

As she approached, the girl looked up and gave a small, polite smile, probably expecting Anya to just pass her by. She didn’t stand and salute immediately, which told Anya that she couldn't be student at Polis.

Wait, that made no sense unless—

The arch of her nose, the curve of her chin, the deep-set eyes. Anya spotted the resemblance to Griffin immediately.

This was Clarke.

And here she was, sitting in front of Lexa’s dorm in the kind of cold that announced the imminent arrival of winter, wearing what Anya assumed to be the quickest outfit she could’ve thrown on.

Anya had told Lexa to talk to Clarke, but it seemed that the opposite had happened.

 _Surprise surprise, looks like_ _Lexa doesn’t know how to communicate either,_ she thought to herself. _Apple doesn't fall far from the tree and all that._

Anya laughed once, under her breath and to herself, at the funny way the world worked.

Clarke furrowed her eyebrows at her, looked around once and tried to school another polite smile despite her confusion.

Anya just raised a challenging corner of her lips.

“Mind if I sit with you?” she asked. Clarke didn’t hide her surprise.

“Uh, sure,” she said, pursing her lips. As Anya settled in on the concrete step next to Clarke, she sighed and smiled, slightly enjoying the young girl’s discomfort. She had no idea who Anya was.

Actually, Anya didn't really know who Clarke was either, but this was her chance to find out.

She tucked her hands deep into her coat pockets and turned to the girl.

“Something on your mind?”

She watched as Clarke contemplated her question, the emotions flickering through her face as she considered sharing her personal issues with a complete stranger.

Anya found herself more interested than she expected to be. She was more than sure that this had something to do with Lexa, and Jesus, if she wasn't curious. It would at least take her mind off of...other things for a little while.

Clarke sighed again and looked far away in front of them.

“Just some old-fashioned heartbreak.” Anya’s eyebrows shot up. _Heartbreak?_

“In this old place? I didn’t realize hearts survived here.” Anya laughed once, short and quiet, but Clarke looked at her with serious eyes, a deep line between her eyebrows and a deep hue to her blues that showed experience in the matter.

“They do. They’re just—” she paused for a moment. “Well-hidden.” Anya nodded. It was true. Doing well at Polis meant separating your emotions from the rest of you, for your sanity’s sake. There was no room for wants and desires amidst the training for the future you signed up for.

“So, what happened?” she asked. Clarke sat still for a moment, and Anya counted three heartbeats before Clarke breathed deep and slow.

“Well, there’s this girl.”

She stopped after the one sentence, as if waiting for a reaction to that last word. Anya didn’t move a muscle, her expression unchanged because she knew that “this girl” Clarke was talking about was her little sister.

“We had something, or at least I thought we had something. She’s not someone who shares a lot about herself, but she did with me and I thought that meant that she…that _we_ were something _._ But then out of nowhere, she just stopped talking to me. Hasn’t texted me, can barely even _look_ at me and I have no idea what to do because I can literally see her reverting back to the person she was before I got to know her and to be honest, it kind of scares me because what if—“ she paused to catch her breath.

Anya could see the glistening of Clarke’s eyes and how much she was struggling, but the words continued to just fall out of her.

“What if—what if that’s it? What if that’s all we were meant to be? I’m a strong, sad believer in fate and all that stupid stuff. Maybe it’s written in the stars that I’ll have her and lose her in the span of _one day_. I really really _really_ like her and I don’t think I can just forget about her like she can with me. So now I’m sitting on the steps in front of her dorm, scared out of my mind about talking to her and, instead, am spilling my sorrows to a stranger who has no connection whatsoever to any of this.”

She stopped then, practically panting. She pulled her legs in close, resting a hand in her hair. Anya blinked at the onslaught of words, trying to process the entirety of the confession.

“Well shit, kid, that sounds rough.” That was the best she could come up with. Clarke laughed once and shook her head.

“I know. And I don't know why, but I'm, like, _afraid_ of just talking to her. Asking what happened or what's wrong because she has a way of making me feel completely vulnerable and I'm afraid it'll hurt. A lot.”

Anya leaned back slightly, resting her lower back against the edge of the next step. She chose her words carefully, considering the fact that Clarke was struggling with confronting a girl that Anya sometimes knew better than herself.

Instead, she found herself smirking. Clarke turned and spotted it immediately.

“What?” she asked, her tone slightly suspicious.

“Oh nothing, it’s just, it’s funny—never mind. I see what you’re saying,” she looked straight at Clarke. “Love’s messed up.”

“Oh no, it’s not—“

“Love,” she repeated. Clarke stayed silent and Anya smiled.

“You see, when you really care about someone, things are both harder and easier. Double-edged sword and all that. It’s easier to to be happy. It’s harder to think about things other than them.” She paused. “It’s easier to get hurt. Harder to mend.”

Anya heard her voice get progressively softer, the words now meant for two troubled hearts instead of one.

“You can’t have the highest highs without some of the lowest lows. When you find someone who’s worth both, then you have to fight like hell to keep it.”

All at once, Anya was shot back to the time she had been trying so hard to forget—the weeks she laid helpless in a hospital in a morphine-induced haze that had fogged her mind completely, had made her feel everything and nothing at all.

She couldn’t remember most of it, especially before the surgeries when she was rushed to DC Memorial on the fastest airlift available for the US Army. But sometimes in her dreams, she caught snippets of memories that her mind was trying to hide from her.

Gus’s frantic voice, a barrage of doctors yelling and poking and prodding her, the bright fluorescent lights passing as she was rushed down some endless hallway. She remembered feeling so _detached_ , like the string that tethered her to the ground had been clipped and she was on the verge of just floating away.

Floating away would have been so much easier.

But above and under and through it all, all she could think of was Gus and Lexa.

Gus and Lexa. Gus. Lexa.

How she would never be able to see them again. Never get to sleep with Gus’s warm, heavy weight beside her or feel the sweat running down her back during one of their family summer barbeques or get to grow old and experience good days and bad days and everything in between.

How she’d never get to see Lexa fall in love.

All those things—all those small things—were what kept Anya tethered to this lifetime. What helped her fight and survive and come back home.

And suddenly, _blindingly_ , Anya knew her answer to the question she had been avoiding for weeks.

Four weeks, to be exact.

“But that’s the thing,” Clarke said, surprising Anya out of her trance, “how am I supposed to _know_ if she’s the one?” She sat straight all of a sudden, splaying her hands in front of her and staring at them incredulously, as if she had come to a revelation.

“I have shirts I’ve had longer than I’ve known her! It’s been, like, _a week_. Not even? I don’t know. And I’m this hung up on her and I can’t stop—“

“Stop.” Anya placed a hand on Clarke’s shoulder, trying to calm her down. The younger girl heaved a breath, the air swirling with its warmth and Anya was suddenly aware of the fact that Clarke was shivering in the cold. She reached up to carefully unwind the scarf around her neck, leaning over to wrap it around Clarke’s. She let it cover her mouth before she could protest (or talk more).

“The fact that you’re this concerned and worried and ‘hung up’ on her means that she’s someone important to you. You can’t expect to know who’s _the one_ before you’re meant to. You know when you know,” she said quietly, smiling slightly as Clarke burrowed deep into her scarf.

Anya was never this nice to strangers, but the fact that this one was no stranger to Lexa made the colonel a little soft.

She stood then, feeling her answer in the very center of her chest and the warmth in her bones despite losing her scarf to a good cause.

“I hope I helped a bit,” Anya said, letting her weight settle on her feet.

“Way more than I could've hoped for.” The blonde smiled graciously, with tired eyes and red cheeks.

“So are you going to talk to Le—uh, your girl?” Anya tried to keep her face straight despite the slip up, and she told herself that the suspicious glint in Clarke’s gaze was a trick of the light. The girl nodded once solemnly, her lips pressed into a small line.

“Yeah. And soon, before I lose my nerve again.” Anya smiled at her, quietly victorious in her endeavor to save Lexa’s love life. Acknowledging that her work there was done, she turned on a heel to walk back to her office when Clarke suddenly called out.

“Wait!” she said. She stood, straight and tall, and stuck out a hand in the space between them.

“Er, I'm not so great at the protocol thing around here, but thank you. Really.” Anya looked down at the hand and back up at Clarke. After a beat, she shook it and was genuinely surprised at how warm it was.

“You’re welcome—“

“Clarke. My name’s Clarke,” she said with a smile. Anya smiled as well and nodded. She liked this girl.

“Anya. Good night, Clarke.” She turned again and headed down the sidewalk, her pace brisk in the chilling wind and the newfound need to talk to Gus.

“Anya,” Clarke’s voice rang from behind her. She stopped and turned. Clarke was holding the scarf Anya gave her high above her head. “You forgot this!”

A corner of Anya’s mouth raised deep into her cheek.

“Give it to me next time we see each other.”

She watched as Clarke dropped her hand in confusion and stood with her head tilted to one side, very obviously trying to figure out what Anya had meant by the cryptic reply. Anya just laughed once and nodded her chin up at the building next to them.

“Second floor, third from the right. That’s Lexa’s window.” She turned before she could see Clarke’s reaction, but knew it would be something akin to complete surprise.

 _Oh Lex,_ she thought, _don't mess this up._

//

“Second floor, third from the right. That’s Lexa’s window.”

Clarke’s mind whirred at the words, trying to tie everything that was happening in a semi-understandable bow. The woman had treated her like so much more than a stranger, given her a scarf that Clarke would apparently give back at a later time, and told her which window was Lexa’s.

She had never even _mentioned_ Lexa’s name.

The scarf was still warm in her hand and Clarke realized that she was shivering again. With a small, confused breath, she wrapped it around her neck again and looked up at the building beside her. Whatever had just happened could be dissected and figured out at a later time.

She had work to do.

With careful steps over the manicured grass, Clarke walked over to stand underneath Lexa’s window. _Second floor, third from the right_.

She contemplated her options. Lexa refused to answer a text and Clarke wasn’t about to go inside.

When the idea popped into her head, Clarke sighed.

 _How cliché_.

She didn’t even know if she could hit a window with a pebble, but she began scouring the ground for some anyway.

Clarke silently cursed the maintenance crew for being so diligent because _my god_ , there weren’t any small pebbles. None.

_What am I going to do, throw clumps of perfect grass at—oh._

Clarke found one. Well, it wasn’t really a pebble.

Actually, it was a rock. Definitely fit into the “too big to throw at a window” category, but she didn’t see any other options nearby.

With a shrug to herself, she picked it up and weighed it in her left hand. She brushed off some of the moist dirt around it, slowly looking up at the window above her.

 _It’s just physics. Momentum and angle. A simple arc, no biggie_.

She bounced it up and down in her hand again, telling herself that yes, this was a good idea.

_Okay, hard enough to reach the window but soft enough to just tap the glass—_

She tossed it up with a small grunt.

It clunked against the brick siding of the building a good ten feet below Lexa’s window.

She cursed under her breath and went to retrieve it.

 _Okay, that was just a test run_.

“Here we go,” she whispered to herself. She’d have to throw it a little harder if she was going to reach the window. With a big breath, she wound her arm back, imagining the perfect arc as—

“Clarke?”

She felt the rock slip out of her hands as the voice crept through her ears. Clarke didn’t have to turn to see who it was.

“Lexa.”

Lexa took a few steps towards her, slowly and carefully, as if the distance was too much for her to handle.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing the rock at Clarke’s feet.

“Uh, well I was trying to get your attention. I figured you were in your room.” Clarke watched her carefully, trying to gauge if there had been any change in her behavior, a crack in her armor, _something_ that would give her an opening to talk.

“I went for a walk.”

Clarke turned to face her. Lexa was in her uniform—as usual—but wore a thick coat and a hat over her usual braided hair. Her breath collected in small swirls around her face and Clarke thought for a moment that it made her look like something out of a dream.

The two girls just blinked at each other for what seemed like a lifetime, both unsure of how to break the tension that had settled over them like a cold blanket on an even colder night.

“Can we talk?” Clarke asked, her voice quiet despite it thundering in her ears.

Lexa just observed her in a calm, collected gaze, her arms straight at her sides and her feet planting firmly to the ground. She didn’t respond, didn’t even react and for a split second, and Clarke wondered if she had even said the words out loud, if Lexa had heard her. She was the image of self-control, perfectly still in front of Clarke who felt like she was vibrating from her bones to her skin.

It made Clarke furious.

She was surprised at the wave of anger, at how her blood boiled and sang inside her with the heat of the frustration and hurt.

“ _How_ ,” Clarke seethed through her teeth, “how can you act like nothing happened?”

Lexa flinched then, a sudden small jerk that seemed to bring her to life.

“Like nothing happened?” Lexa whispered, her tone all quiet fire. “Can _you_ stand there and act like nothing happened?”

Clarke raised her hands in front of her, palms towards the sky in exasperation.

“ _I’m_ not the one who suddenly shut you out after—“ Clarke paused, unable to say the words. _After we kissed. After we were sure that this was something._

Lexa eyes blazed as she took a step closer, one foot ahead of the other and stuck between wanting to stay back and not being able to stay away.

“Do not talk to me as if there isn’t a reason I stopped talking to you,” Lexa paused, taking a breath. “You haven’t been honest with me.”

Clarke leaned back, confusion flooding through her. She scrambled to think of anything she could have said wrong.

“Is this about my mom?” Clarke asked quietly. Lexa’s eyebrows furrowed.

“No,” she said loudly. “No, it’s not about your mom. It’s—“ She paused again.

Clarke’s mind whirred at Lexa’s accusation. What had she lied about? She had been honest with everything she shared with her.

Lexa stood there, staring straight into Clarke’s eyes. There was an undistinguishable mess of emotions on her face. Frustration, hurt, anger. Clarke guessed that it looked somewhat like the expression on her own.

She searched Clarke’s face, most likely looking for some sort of revelation of wrongdoing, a sign that Clarke remembered what could have been the culprit of their broken…something.

Clarke remained clueless.

Lexa closed her eyes then, slowly facing the ground and shaking her head.

“Forget it, it’s not even imp—“

“Don’t you dare say it isn’t important,” Clarke nearly yelled. Lexa looked at her again in surprise.

“You may be able to shut this all out without a problem, but I _can’t_. I can’t just flip a switch and pretend that nothing happened, okay?” Clarke’s voice wavered but she refused to let any tears fall. She breathed slowly, trying to even out her hiccupping beat in her chest.

“So please,” she continued, “just talk to me. Tell me what happened or what changed, whatever it was to make you hate me.”

Lexa shook her head, her eyes drifting away from Clarke’s. Her voice was small when she spoke again.

“I could never hate you, Clarke.”

The words were quiet, but the sincerity in them made both girls falter slightly. Neither was capable of pretending they didn't care anymore.

Clarke watched as Lexa’s face hardened in resolution, her eyes darkening in either anger or sadness. She couldn't distinguish the two.

“It’s not your fault, Clarke,” Lexa started. “It isn't like we agreed that we were exclusive or did anything even close to defining what we are. But seeing you with that girl was enough indication to tell me that you had other…interests in mind.”

“ _What?_ ”

The word slipped out of Clarke’s mouth without a second thought. Lexa eyes narrowed at her in surprise, at how incredulous and confused Clarke was at her statement of fact.

“Monday night. I came to your house after my dinner and saw you,” Lexa paused, taking a breath, “and _her_.”

Clarke’s mind whirred in attempt to figure out what Lexa was talking about.

_What the hell—I haven't even thought about anyone else, let alone done anything to make her think—What could she possibly be—_

Wait _._

On Monday night, Lexa had ducked Clarke’s invitation to a dinner date, so she had invited Raven over to—

 _Oh_.

“You saw us that night.”

Lexa’s eyes remained dark and stoic as she nodded once. Clarke sighed, a strange mixture of pain and relief swirling in her chest.

“Lexa, that was…that was Raven. Like, my best friend Raven? The girl I told you about from the car accident. The one who lost her leg.”

Clarke saw the exact moment when Lexa processed her words. Her face shifted minutely, small waves of realization and emotion passing through her otherwise stoic expression. Lex blinked a few times, then closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.

But Clarke's thoughts were on overdrive, trying to make sense of what had happened, how Lexa had shut her out without a second thought because she assumed Clarke was messing around with another person. The fury slammed into her like a battering ram.

“I mean,” Clarke started, incredulous at the amount of frustration that this small girl could cause, “did you think I was _cheating_ on you or something?”

“No, Clar—“

“That I was stringing you along and had girls on the side and that I was just playing around with you?” Clarke’s voice raised with every word.

She could not _believe_ that Lexa had even entertained the thought after the time they had spent together.

“I can’t even bel—“

“ _Clarke_ ,” Lexa interrupted, her voice firm and angry. She looked at her as Clarke’s chest heaved, her breaths labored by her stream of accusations and the weight of her frustration. It was then that Clarke noticed that Lexa was shaking slightly, her hands balled into fists at her side. It calmed her slightly, knowing that she wasn't the only one affected by it all.

“I may have entertained the thought that you were with someone else,” Lexa continued, “but deep down, I knew you wouldn't.”

Clarke’s shoulders slumped at that.

“Then why did you shut me out, Lexa?”

Clarke saw Lexa physically react to hearing her say her name. Lexa closed her eyes again and squared her shoulders, as if preparing herself for what she was going to say next.

“That night, when I saw you with Raven, you were—“ she paused, taking a breath. “You were so happy, Clarke. You were so at ease and light and happy. I saw you laugh and smile and it was like nothing is ever seen before and it felt like a punch in the gut. All this, how awful and cold I've been to you is because I thought—no, I _know_ I can't make you that happy.”

Lexa’s voice was strained, as if it was a physical struggle to get the words out. Clarke just stared at her as the confession sunk in. She heard herself speak before she could give it a second thought.

“How can you know something like that?” She took a step closer to Lexa. “How can you know that without even trying?” She continued until she was standing right in front of her.

Clarke looked straight at her, but Lexa was doing her best to look anywhere but Clarke’s eyes. Her lips twitched with the effort in keeping her face expressionless and for some reason, that made Clarke even sadder.

“Lexa,” she said, and before she knew it, her hands raised to hold Lexa’s face. It was freezing in her palms and Clarke smiled a little when Lexa subconsciously leaned into their warmth.

“Clarke, I—“

“You make me happy, Lexa. It’s not the same kind of happy you saw with Raven.” Clarke ran her thumbs across Lexa’s cheeks. “This is something that feels different from anything else and to be honest, it scares me because I've never felt it before.”

She felt Lexa’s breath hitch under her hands. Lexa’s eyes searched hers for honesty, for any indication that her words were the truth.

Clarke was sure she’d find what she was looking for.

“There’s so much that could hold us back. That could make this hard for you,” Lexa whispered.

“I don't care,” Clarke replied. She was surprised at how much she meant it. “If I have you, then that's all I need to be happy.”

Lexa looked at her with so much emotion that it made Clarke’s chest swim.

“So,” Clarke continued, “are we going to do this? For real?”

“I’m in if you are.” Lexa’s voice was low, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

Clarke let one hand drift down to Lexa’s chin and rested a thumb on her bottom lip. She leaned in slightly and marveled a little at how Lexa’s eyes slowly drifted closed.

“On one condition,” Clarke whispered. She felt the imperceptible nod in her palms.

She pulled back, sudden and harsh, and held a little tighter onto Lexa’s face, looking straight into her eyes.

“No more of this ‘untouchable corporal’ crap. We talk, we communicate, and you do not shut me out like this again.”

Lexa blinked a few times in surprise, her pupils still wide and dark. When she recovered, she glared at Clarke.

“That was cruel.”

“As was your radio silence.” Clarke raised her eyebrows challengingly and Lexa closed her eyes, her lips pursed.

“Fair point,” she said. She nodded slightly and rested her own hands on Clarke’s waist. She pulled her closer and smiled slightly. “I promise to all of the above.”

Clarke couldn't help the relief and happiness that flooded through her. _This is real. We’re doing this._

And when Lexa’s eyes lowered to her lips once more, Clarke decided that it was probably best to seal their promise with a kiss.

//

After they had said their goodnights and Clarke had sworn to text her once she got home, Lexa took careful steps up to her room, as if she was afraid to jar herself awake from what felt like a dream.

She had gone for a walk in hopes that the cold winter air would clear her head from the swirling mess that it had been all day, but instead, she found herself returning to the dorms with a mind at ease and a girlfriend.

A _girlfriend_.

The thought alone made her smile and because there was no one around to see it, she let it grow big enough to fill her face.

_This is real. We’re doing this._

She turned a corner, schooling her expression into its usual stoic calm before walking into the dorm room.

Much to her surprise, the lights were still on and a few of her bunkmates were lounging around casually in their beds.

A little too casually.

Lexa’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the room. Everyone was pointedly avoiding her gaze. As she spotted a few clues, Lexa sighed and walked in, preparing herself for the painful barrage that was to ensue.

“Oh _hey_ Lexa, didn't see you there,” Emori called from her bunk. There was a slight smirk on her face that she was trying to hold back.

She was failing miserably.

“Where'd you disappear to, tiger?” Bellamy said from behind a magazine. Lexa rolled her eyes.

“Cut the crap, guys.”

Lincoln leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee and sitting in the most ridiculous Thinking Man pose ever.

“We don't know what you're talking about, old chum,” he said, a smile lighting up his face. Lexa walked over to her bunk and pulled off her coat and hat, hanging them on her rack.

“The window’s still open, you're sitting on Millers’ bed instead of your own, Emori can't keep a straight face for her life, and Bellamy’s magazine is upside down.”

All three of them chuckled and Lexa did her best to keep a blush from rising on her cheeks. Bellamy tossed the magazine aside and turned, planting his feet on the floor and leaning back on his hands.

“Humor us a little, would you? You're no fun.”

“Make it a little harder to figure out then,” she shot back. But she couldn't help but smile a little bit too. She cleared her throat slightly, doing her best to ease back her expression to something more akin to professionalism. (It didn't work.)

“So how much did you guys see?” Lexa asked as she plopped down on her bed.

The three of them looked at each other, but Emori spoke up.

“We heard your girlfriend yelling at first, and when we finally decided to look outside you were breathing each other’s air and the rest was super hot.” The smirk never left her face. Bellamy laughed and Lincoln shook his head and Lexa blushed.

“A little consideration for privacy would've been nice,” Lexa muttered. Lincoln lifted his hands in mock defeat.

“In our defense, we did consider it.” He grinned like a fiend. “For like three seconds.”

“Oh my god, stop with the smiling,” Lexa said, waving him off.

“We can't help it!” Bellamy all but yelled. “We’re happy for you, Lexa.”

At that, Lexa stopped and looked at the three of them. The happiness in their faces was genuine, and she felt her heart warm in gratitude.

“Thanks, guys,” she said quietly. “I’m happy too. Really.”

They all “ooh”-ed together and Lexa groaned, throwing her head back and yelling for them to stop.

They all spoke on top of each other, trying to ply details from Lexa, but she didn’t hear any of it because she had felt a buzz in her pocket. She pulled her phone out and clicked the screen open.

It was Clarke.

**got home in one piece.  
g’night, lexa. sweet dreams**

She was momentarily distracted by the text and forgot to keep her poker face on high alert. As soon as the smile crept onto her face, her three bunkmates eyed each other and Lexa could’ve sworn that she could _hear_ them smirking.

“Guys, stop.”

“We’re not doing anything,” Bellamy said, the lilt in his voice too teasing to be honest. Lexa rolled her eyes and leaned back in her bed, her head resting gently on the wooden headboard. She tapped out a quick response and sent it across campus with a _whoosh_.

**Sleep tight, Clarke. I’ll  
see you tomorrow.**

She let herself smile slightly into the brightness of the screen and set her phone down, already excited at the prospect of seeing Clarke the next day.

“So,” Emori said, interrupting her thoughts, “was it a sext?”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Lexa groaned.

The three students in green fell into laughter together, the sound ringing bright despite how sharp and plain the walls were, and the fourth couldn’t help but join in because her chest was light and her smile felt easy and her heart was too full to ignore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, (this segment's) angst is resolved. also, I know emori isn't technically a member of trikru but I really wanted to include her in this because her (s)ass is gold.
> 
> find me @ei8htballer on tumblr & twitter. yell & I will listen attentively.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa is just a mess and Clarke has a few tricks up her sleeve. Winter has arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned from the war and come bearing a gift in the form of 8.5k of clexa. please enjoy accordingly.

To Lexa, time had always moved at an untouchable rhythm. Sun up to sun down, the minutes and hours moved at a steady march that never lost its beat. It was just as much a part of the lifestyle at Polis as the uniforms, the training, the cemented schedules. You lived at a pace that did not care for anyone or anything—it slugged from whistle to whistle, morning reveille to dinner call, from lights on to lights out.

But with Clarke, everything changed.

Time ebbed and flowed like a living thing—like the blood that coursed through Lexa’s veins when they were together and the slow breaths that stifled her when they were apart. She felt eons age her as she waited for her morning classes to finish, felt hours tick like seconds when she and Clarke took long, winding walks around campus and discovered all its hidden corners or when they sat on their little hill by the fields, talking until they were the only ones outside and the stars were just as bright as the lamps that lined the walkways.

All at once, Clarke had become a force that seemed to control time and Lexa was at the mercy of it all.

Several weeks had passed since the night when everything came out and Lexa had admitted her fears. Not all of them, no, but the ones that seemed to matter at the moment. The last 24 days had snuck by Lexa like a thief, but only because she never realized how quick, how sly and blindingly fast it could be when something—or rather, someone—had all your attention.

Weekdays were spent catching quick minutes together, waiting for lunch to see each other and eat with friends, spending quiet evenings when Lexa studied and Clarke read or drew or simply watched the careful, focused girl sitting in front of her.

Weekends were something else entirely—the most satisfying blend of hard work and blissful peace. Lexa very quickly discovered that the best remedy for a rough training session or an exceptionally difficult officer’s meeting was an afternoon with Clarke.

Both girls were enamored and a little wondrous at what they had found, at what they had allowed themselves to have despite everything. It was unbelievable, really.

Which was exactly why Lexa was afraid to burst the bubble.

She had come to realize what exactly could break their little spell when the first snowflakes of the year fell from the sky, peppering her hair and resting on her eyelashes. Suddenly, she felt the brisk cold in her bones, the bite of the wind through her uniform, the icy air on the skin of her hands.

It was winter, which meant it was time for the annual military ball.

All at once, she saw the flyers for it everywhere. Heard quiet murmurings and serious discussions at every hour about the date, the dates, the day itself.

It had crept up on her, or rather, she hadn’t even thought about it considering it had been outside of her radar the past two years, but now—

Now, it carried a weight.

As a corporal, she was to attend the ball for the practicalities—the award ceremony, the graduation announcements, the official dances and officer recognitions.

But as Lexa Woods—not the corporal, but a college girl with a schoolgirl crush—she wanted to attend the ball for one reason and one reason only.

To go with Clarke.

Now the issue was plucking up the courage to actually ask her to the biggest annual event at Polis.

She wondered about it, pondered the possibilities and weighed her options as she sat in her weekly officers meeting. She spun a pen around in her fingers as the presiding colonel droned on about changes to training schedules and new practice drills for the freshmen blocks. The dilemma had settled in the very bottom of her stomach just two days ago when she had overheard two of her colleagues talking about who they were going to ask to the ball.

She had ripped a flyer off the wall, folded it into a very small, neat square, and tucked it into her backpack because she hated herself and hated obligation but loved the idea of having Clarke beside her on the best night of the year.

She wanted to take Clarke, obviously.

But would she want to go with her?

And asking her meant there was a chance Clarke would say no, and Lexa didn’t know if she could take that kind of rejection when—

“Woods.”

Lexa immediately sat up straight and looked to the front of the room.

“Yes, sir?”

“What do you think would be the best approach on scheduling practice drills and PT rounds in the same block?” The colonel’s voice rang deep through the silence of the room as Lexa scrambled to form a coherent answer.

“I believe splitting the officers between drills and throughout several checkpoints of the route will be best.” She cleared her throat once, trying to shake the foggy thoughts of Clarke out of her mind. “We can rotate duties on a daily basis as well as the order of the blocks to keep the freshmen from getting used to the routines.”

The colonel nodded once, accepting her answer.

“Very good, Woods.”

She relaxed a little in her seat when he continued onto the next subject—regulating student demerits—and let out a quick breath in relief. She was never really distracted in class or meetings, even after Clarke had infiltrated every facet of her life, but the whole Winter Ball thing was really taking a toll on her.

What was she supposed to do?

Bring it up like it was nothing? Make a huge deal and ask her in spectacular fashion?

Ignore it completely until it goes away on its own?

She racked her brain for a logical approach to something so abstract, something that required so much more thought and consideration and _emotion_ than she was used to.

She let herself sigh just a little as the debate raged on inside her and finally settled on doing what she does best—ignoring her feelings until _just_ before the problem would blow up in her face.

Lexa tuned her attention back to the colonel at the front of the room and felt the switch flip inside her, pushing the warm, swirling feelings far and away from the thoughts of music, of dancing, of Clarke in a dress just for her.

//

“You two are disgusting.”

“Okay, Raven, I get it.” Clarke rolled her eyes, taking another sip from her warm mug. She turned to Octavia who was still fiddling with her uniform name tag. “O, stop her.”

“No, I completely agree with her. You guys are gross.” She didn’t even look up. Clarke glared at the top of her head and settled deeper into the couch.

“No, we—it’s not even _that_ bad.”

Octavia’s name plate clicked together with a small _snap_ and she sighed in victory, lifting a hand to brush back the hairs that had escaped from her bun. She looked at Clarke with sympathetic eyes.

“It’s pretty fucking bad,” she said, resting a hand on Clarke’s knee in faux pity. Raven laughed loud and victorious from the armchair she was lounging on. Clarke smacked Octavia’s hand away and the dark-haired girl just smiled.

It was a quiet Sunday evening and the three girls had finally found a bit of time where they could all be together. It was just them lounging around in Clarke’s living room, mugs of hot tea and blankets at hand and too much to catch up on, but it was enough.

“As if you and Lincoln haven’t been all over each other for the past few weeks,” Clarke shot back. Octavia leaned against a cushion, crossing her legs under her.

“True, but that’s expected of me considering he’s built like a god.” She splayed her hands in front of her and closed her eyes in reverence. She scoffed in surprise when she received a face-full of pillow from Raven’s general direction.

“Yeah, we know you can’t keep your hands off Mr. Senior Officer,” Raven quipped.

“But we are _not_ the kind of gross that Clarke and the Commander are.”

Raven hummed and pointed a mocking finger at Octavia in agreement.

“Fair point. From what I’ve heard, you guys are all gooey and cutesy and it makes me want to throw up.”

Clarke stuck her tongue out at Raven and set her mug down on the coffee table, reaching for her phone instead. It was true—Lexa was all kinds of cute and sweet and caring, and truth be told, Clarke was all about it.

Lexa was everything she wanted, wrapped in a military-precise, _hot_ bow.

“Here I wanted to spend some quality time with my best friends and instead I’m getting torn to shreds about my love life.”

Octavia and Raven gave each other a look, the former raising an inquisitive eyebrow at Clarke’s very specific use of the L-word. Clarke’s ears burned when she realized what she said, but kept her eyes glued to her still-dark phone screen to avoid it at all costs. Raven cleared her throat to usher in a change of topic, but unfortunately, the subject didn’t stray too far.

“If you expected anything less from us, then you’re delusional,” she said, swinging her legs up and over the couch’s armrest. “So, enlighten us. How is it dating the most intimidating girl in a 50-mile radius?”

“We’re not _dating_ , per say—“

“Cut the crap, Clarke, you guys have been exclusive for weeks and she’s clinical for you. It’s ‘dating’,” Octavia said, raising her hands to quote the last word in the air. Raven nodded emphatically in support.

“Just tell us. How is it?”

Her friends looked at her with inquisitive, genuinely curious eyes, and all at once, Clarke had no idea what to say.

She spun her phone in slow circles in her hand and contemplated her words.

“It’s easy. Just, like, really easy and fun and it feels so natural. It’s so nice to be around her.” She paused to take a breath and was surprised when no one interjected to tease her. “She’s sweet. Funny. I miss her when she’s not around which is _crazy_ , but I do.”

She finally looked up at Raven and Octavia, who were both smiling huge and sappy-like. Clarke rolled her eyes when they both burst into too-high squeals of happiness. Raven clasped her hands together and held them to one cheek, pretending to swoon. Octavia, whose sworn duty was to egg her on, fell apart in laughter.

Clarke felt the blush creep up her neck and being unable to process her embarrassment in any other way, threw the pillows next to her at them with as much force as she could muster.

Octavia expertly dodged hers, but Raven’s laughter was immediately quelled as it smacked her right in the face.

“You guys are the worst.”

“Probably, but it’s hard not to be when you guys are so _gooey_ ,” Raven said.

“Maybe if you guys were a bit more like hormonal teenagers like the rest of us, we wouldn’t make fun of you that much,” Octavia offered.

“What, like you and Lincoln?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, who says we aren’t?”

At that, her friends froze and Clarke almost laughed at their shocked expressions. They stared at her, their mouths open and eyes wide. Octavia was the first to recover.

“Shut. _Up_.”

“It’s true.” The words are kind of hard to say, but she willed them to be true. To build up something that was totally unlike the weeks of slow frustration that Clarke had been suppressing.

“Oh my god, why didn’t you tell us?!”

“It’s, y’know, like on the DL and really, uh— casual.”

Raven squinted at her, the suspicion arising at her choice of words, but Clarke valiantly avoided eye contact. Octavia, on the other hand, was completely convinced.

“Dude, like, _wow._ With Lexa? Jesus, tell me everything. Is she good? She seems like she’s really fucking good.”

“I mean, _yeah_ obviously like it’s crazy how much, like, we just—“

“You’re bluffing.”

Raven stopped the words in Clarke’s mouth, but the pointed look in her eyes were what ended the ruse. Clarke sighed. Raven saw right through her.

“Fuck.”

Octavia groaned in frustration and Raven laughed in victory. It seemed that the afternoon was intent on seeing just how many times Clarke could blush and embarrass herself and so far, she was taking a beating.

“You little _liar_ ,” Octavia exclaimed. She looked personally offended at falling for her little white lie.

“Fuck,” Clarke said, repeating her earlier sentiment. “Okay, fine, we haven’t yet.”

“Somehow, that seems totally unbelievable to me,” Raven said. “You guys are all over each other.”

“Well, yeah, but not in _that_ way.” Clarke peered down at her hands as she picked at a loose thread on the blanket around her. “She seems intent on taking this slow and it’s driving me insane.”

“Who knew the Commander was such a tease?” Octavia said, a wicked grin on her face.

“I swear, she’s completely aware of what she’s doing and it’s awful.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t turned up the sexy and broken her,” Raven joked.

“I don’t know. This is…different. I’m okay with slow and steady if she wants it to be. It’s just—“ she paused. “it’s _so hard_.”

“If you were a guy, I’d agree with that statement,” Octavia said. Raven leaned over to high five her and Clarke groaned quietly at the awful pun.

Just then, Raven’s phone chimed with a notification. She swiped the screen and looked over the message quickly before standing abruptly out of her seat.

“Well kiddos, I’ve got a physics project to finish by tonight so I have to go.” She stretched slightly from side to side and grabbed the jacket that was hanging over her chair.

“Tonight? Way to save it till the last minute,” Octavia said.

“It’s called smart planning. I do my best work under pressure,” she responded as she pulled on her boots. Clarke smiled at her and waved.

“Get home safe, Rae. Text me when you get a chance.”

“Sure thing. Oh!” Raven whirled around, remembering something. “Are you doing the thing tonight?” Clarke blushed a little and shook her head with a small smile.

“No, it’ll be tomorrow morning.” Raven’s smile was blinding.

“You’re such a fucking romantic, it’s disgusting.” Clarke rolled her eyes and Octavia chuckled.

“I’m just hoping nothing happens tonight so I can actually go through with it.”

“She’s gonna have an aneurysm when she realizes you asked her,” Raven said as she did the buttons on her coat. Clarke considered the possibility and prayed it wouldn’t be that extreme.

“My only hope is that she’ll like it and say yes.” She pulled at the edges of the pillow on her lap. “I don’t think she even knows I know what it is.”

“Like I said, aneurysm.”

“Bye, Raven.” Raven just laughed and threw a peace sign over her shoulder as she left the living room. Clarke and Octavia shouted their goodbyes as she swung the front door open and walked into the blistery cold evening.

The two girls shivered as the breeze from outside swept through the house for a brief moment, but settled in when the warmth of the fireplace took over the room once more. Clarke turned to Octavia.

“Isn’t it Sunday? Why are you in your uniform?”

“My bunk’s having a practice run tonight for this week’s uniform eval. I wanted to be ready.” She sat up straight and fixed her collar. Clarke noticed how easy the movement was, how habitual and practiced it seemed. She smiled.

“You’re doing really well here.” It was a statement. Plain, unsurprised, slightly proud.

Octavia nodded thoughtfully. She looked down as she pulled at the cuffs of her sleeves.

“Yeah. I like it.” The words were short and quiet, but both girls could hear how honest they were.

“I’m glad.”

Something shifted in Octavia’s expression then—something that resembled barely concealed concern, like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it. Clarke looked at her, trying to figure out what she was thinking, but Octavia was carefully eyeing the floor.

“Uh, I should go,” she said suddenly. “The eval’s in a little bit and I don’t want to be late.”

“Oh, okay.” Clarke was surprised, but didn’t point out the sudden change in mood. She stood and followed Octavia to the door, her arms crossed against the slowly permeating cold that crept from the front door.

They both muttered quiet “bye”s and exchanged quick smiles, but Octavia stopped with her hand on the doorknob. She turned to Clarke, eyes hard and intent and serious.

“Clarke,” she said, her tone controlled and even, “what you said earlier about missing Lexa.”

She nodded, small and short.

“That—you—I think you should talk to Lexa about it. What it could mean for you guys in the future.”

Clarke furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“What?”

“It’s—Just remember who Lexa is and what this place is. What it means to be at Polis.” At that, Octavia turned and opened the door, letting in a sudden wave of cold wind and a colder quiet that bit through to the bone.

Octavia’s words were cryptic and coded, as if she wanted to tell her something but couldn’t.

Everything had been so great, so _perfect_ with Lexa the past few weeks. What was Octavia talking about?

Clarke stood there for another beat, then shook her head free of the overwhelming thoughts swirling inside.

She walked back to the living room and plopped down on the couch again. Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the table. She picked it up and swiped it open, a slow smile growing on her face when she read the name.

**I just got out of my  
meeting. See you in 20?**

Every thought about Octavia’s words disappeared in an instant. She had Lexa to herself for a lazy Sunday night and there was nothing that could take that away from her.

**sounds perfect.**

//

When the presiding colonel had dismissed the officers from the meeting, Lexa’s first instinct was to pull out her phone and tap out a quick message to Clarke.

Although Lexa had been nothing but focused and attentive during the rest of the session, Clarke had been a constant presence in the back of her mind. She was always there at the corner of her thoughts. Not enough to be distracting, but enough for Lexa to always be aware of how much time was left till she could see her again.

It was a buzz under her skin, in her ears, that had taken up residence a few weeks before. It came part and parcel to being able to call Clarke _hers_ , so it was good, really.

Oh who was she kidding, Lexa was over the fucking moon.

She gathered her stuff and shouldered her backpack before heading out of the classroom, steps only slightly hurried with the thought of a lazy Sunday night with nothing to do but Cl—

“Lexa!”

Her hazy thoughts were interrupted by Lincoln falling into step with her.

“Hi, Lincoln.”

His leisurely pace kind of pissed her off because _damn it_ , she was walking pretty fast, but as always, he just had an easy smile on his face.

“I wanted to ask your opinion on something, since your girlfriend’s best friends with my girlfriend.”

Her heart skipped at the word.

“Well, technically, she’s not my _girlfr—“_

“Oh, cut the crap, Lexa, you guys have been together for weeks!” Lincoln all but yelled. She slapped his arm in an attempt to get him to quiet down, but it probably hurt her more than it hurt him.

“Shut it.”

“You two seriously _still_ haven’t talked about—“

“No,” Lexa deadpanned, cutting off the rest of his sentence. She cleared her throat and pulled her backpack higher onto her shoulders. “So, what was your question?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s about the Winter Ball.” He smiled, his eyes lighting up. “It’s going to be incredible, Lex. Music, dancing, aw _man_.”

Lexa’s heart had seemingly jumped to her throat because she had trouble swallowing. The music. The dancing. _Clarke_. The thought of this stupid ball was everywhere and there was no escaping this _freakin’_ —

Lincoln punched her in the arm and she winced in surprise, the pain snapping her attention back.

“Oh my god, _ow_.”

“Sorry, but I lost you there for a second. Did you hear what I said?”

Lexa cleared her throat and straightened her sleeves.

“No, sorry. What was it again?”

“I said, do you think I should go all out with asking Octavia to the ball or should I just do like a small thing between us? Like we always go on these walks and—“

The words caught up to Lexa and her mind immediately raced, speeding through the logic and finishing at one terrifying conclusion. She stopped in her tracks and looked at Lincoln with huge, panicked eyes.

“What?” Lincoln said, uneasy with how scared Lexa looked.

“When are you asking her?”

“Uh, I was planning on tonight—“

“ _Tonight?_ ” she yelped. Lincoln gave her a weird look and she closed her eyes, exasperated and worried and entirely caught up in the implications of his easy bravery.

“Octavia is best friends with Clarke.” Lexa made her way through the reasoning once more, voicing the trail her mind had blazed in seconds. “If you ask her tonight that means Clarke will know about it by at least tomorrow morning and that gives me less than 12 hours to figure out how to do this because _I don’t know how_.”

He stared at her in surprise while Lexa did her best to control her heaving breaths and heart rate. But in clear Lincoln fashion, his face immediately shifted to a blinding grin.

“So you _are_ going to ask her,” he said, nudging her. She turned to slap him away, cheeks burning, but he just laughed.

“Really, Lincoln. I don’t—Like, I can’t—How am I even supposed to do this?”

He thought for a moment, lips slightly pursed and eyes regarding her carefully.

“Lex, just ask her. You don’t need anything fancy or over the top. The ball will cover all that.” He chuckled, but rested a hand on her shoulder to ease the tension that had crawled up her neck.

“I—what if she says no?” Her voice was small and she never liked showing this side of her to anyone, but Lincoln was someone she trusted with her life.

“She won’t. There’s no way she would say no to a night of music, good food, and you in your full uniform.”

She scoffed, but the words seemed to soften the weight in her chest.

“She’ll say yes, Lex,” Lincoln assured her. She nodded once, knowing in her head that, logically, Clarke would respond positively, especially after weeks of them spending all their spare time together and how she was _sure_ that their feelings were real.

But her heart screamed with the possibility of rejection, with the fear and doubt and hesitation that had clouded her judgment with Clarke all those weeks ago.

“You’re right,” she breathed. Another, deep to the bottom of her lungs. “You’re right.”

“Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, corporal, you have about—“ he lifted a hand to check his watch, “four hours to do it before me, so I suggest you get going.” She glared at him, but he just smiled reassuringly.

“You’ll be fine.” He was being supportive, but Lexa couldn’t shake the frown on her face.

“Okay. I’ll do it. Tonight.” The words were short and heavy on her tongue. Lincoln nodded once in response and gently pushed her down the sidewalk.

“You got it, Lex. Now go, your girlfriend’s waiting for you.”

“She’s not—“

“Four hours.” With that, he turned on a heel and walked the other way, leaving Lexa in the red, waning light of the evening. She bounced a few times on the balls of her feet as she considered the monumental task planned that night.

 _It’ll be easy_ , she lied to herself. _It’ll be easy and fast and she’ll say yes._

Taking a deep breath, she clenched and unclenched her hands, bringing one up to pull her hair out of its ponytail and shake it out in the wind. She shivered briefly as the full force of the cool air registered on her skin. But without another thought, she started down the path again, eyes blinded by the bright rays of the sunset but still, still making her way because Clarke was waiting for her.

//

After the quickest, hottest shower she had ever taken and approximately 22 minutes had passed since she sent that text, Lexa hustled to the house by the flagpole with a genuine fear of freezing her ears off.

She rapped on the door and was happy when Clarke opened it in the next second.

“Come inside, you must be so cold.” She ushered Lexa in and watched with concerned eyes as she pulled her jacket and shoes off. When Lexa looked up, she saw Clarke eyeing her wet hair. _Shit_.

“I thought I told you not to walk outside with your hair still wet. It’s freezing outside! You’ll get sick.”

Lexa rolled her eyes and padded into the living room.

“I’m indestructible, remember?”

“I remember the exact opposite being true.”

“Yeah well, I have a nurse on call at all times so I’ll be okay.” She smirked as she sank into the couch. It was Clarke’s turn to roll her eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, making her way to the kitchen.

“Not really. Could I just get some—“

“Tea? I already set the kettle.”

Lexa felt the affection spread through her like warm water seeping into her bones.

Clarke returned in just a moment with two steaming mugs in her hands. She handed one off to Lexa and curled into the sofa next to her. She watched as Lexa lifted it to her lips and took a careful sip, reveling in the heat.

“Jesus, that’s good stuff.” Lexa hummed with her eyes closed as she felt the heat creep through her hands. She turned to Clarke. “Thank you.”

One corner of Clarke’s mouth lifted as she ducked behind her mug for a sip of her own.

“You’re welcome.”

Lexa turned in her seat to face Clarke a little better and rested her head against the back cushions.

“So how was your day?”

“Relatively boring. But Raven and Octavia both came over earlier to hang out, so it was nice to catch up.” Lexa smiled at the way Clarke’s eyes softened at the thought of her best friends.

“I’m glad you had a good time with them.”

“Yeah, it was good. We talked a lot.” Clarke’s words trailed off and her eyes darted down to the mug in her hands, as if she had remembered something delicate. Lexa frowned slightly, but scrambled to think of something to switch the mood back.

“Any cool gossip?” she asked. Clarke immediately looked up, eyes teasing and gloriously excited at the chance to make fun of her.

“D’you know how uncool that question is?”

“Hey, I’m hip.” Lexa joked, feeling slightly victorious when Clarke laughed in response. A warm smile settled on her lips, the faraway look now gone from her eyes and replaced by soft blues that seemed to melt everything else away. Words fell from Lexa’s lips before she could stop them and she prayed Clarke hadn’t heard them.

“What was that?” Clarke asked.

“Nothing.”

Clarke poked her side.

“Tell me.”

Lexa sighed, turning her head into the couch cushion.

“I missed you.”

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said, _I missed you_ ,” she yelled into the pillow. Her face was blazing.

“Now was that so hard to say?” The teasing in Clarke’s tone was enough to draw Lexa up and away from the couch, to make her brave and make her confident.

“Y’know what _would_ be hard to say?” she said, creeping closer and closer to Clarke, who slowly leaned back into the sofa. “That the thought of you distracted me through the entire meeting.”

The words were quiet and barely fell from Lexa’s lips, but she spotted Clarke swallowing, eyes _almost_ glazed over. When her face was just inches from Clarke’s and she was sure she had her on the ropes, Lexa plopped back onto the armrest of the couch again, smug and smirking at her ability to fluster.

Clarke blinked a few times, trying to recover from the onslaught. Her eyes came back into focus, but they were still dark, still dangerous. Very slowly and very carefully, she set her mug down on the coffee table and looked at Lexa.

The gaze was enough to make her heart jump to her throat, her skin tingle, her blood simmer and race.

“You’re playing a _very_ risky game.” It was her turn to crawl over to Lexa, gaze blazing and hands burning a slow trail like a spreading fire.

Lexa became hyper-aware of every part of her senses, as if she was in battle training. She felt her heart rate slow to almost a stop—each beat echoed through her body and her blood crawled like lava in her veins. Each breath felt like a lifetime, but she was still lightheaded.

Clarke got closer and closer, stopping only to sit on her lap.

She placed her hands on the back of Lexa’s neck and leaned in until her nose brushed against hers.

“You’ve been a tease. And Lex,” Clarke whispered. Lexa could _taste_ the words. “I think this is a game you’ll lose.”

Lexa gasped at the flush she felt from Clarke’s quiet declaration, but it was quickly swallowed by Clarke’s lips. They melted together and hands blazed trails and mouths fought for air and skin with equal fervor.

And as Lexa felt herself pull at Clarke’s shirt and Clarke’s heart hammer in time with her own, Lexa realized that, in a way, she was right.

Lexa will lose herself to Clarke.

//

Clarke was losing it.

She was _fucking_ losing it because the girl underneath her was the hottest thing Clarke had ever laid eyes on and she didn’t even know it.

Lexa’s eyes were screwed shut as Clarke licked a trail down her neck and ran her hands down her flat stomach. She was both breathing hard and not breathing at all and it made her head spin, but it didn’t matter because Lexa was topless and under her and _god,_ Clarke was losing it.

She nipped at Lexa’s collarbone and bit her pulse point, drawing a low hum from the back of Lexa’s throat. Her hands tugged at Clarke’s neck to pull her up for another kiss, which she gladly accepted. She ran her hands down Lexa’s sides and pulled at her knee to bend and curl around her.

Lexa’s hips twitched as Clarke leaned and pushed closer, closer and Clarke wondered for a moment if this was how addictions began.

She was so caught up in trying to see if she could coax Lexa into making that sound again that she hadn’t noticed Lexa’s hand sneak between them and tease the waistband of her shorts.

Clarke sucked in a breath through her nose, surprised at the touch and how all the blood in her body rushed to a single point at the base of her stomach. She pulled back a bit to groan and try to stop her head from spinning.

“Off,” Lexa whispered, taking advantage of Clarke trying to breathe and pulling at her waistband again. She hummed in frustration, as if she was completely floored by the complexity of pants and the process of taking them off.

Clarke ran a hand through her hair, the air clearing her head and making her very aware of where this was heading.

“Wait,” she said, “wait wait wait wait wait.”

“What?” Lexa breathed, eyes glassy and hands still roaming and pulling and touching.

“Wait.” Clarke ripped herself off of Lexa and stood at the center of the room, hands on her hips and chest heaving as she tried to regain sanity.

Lexa looked at her incredulously from the couch, leaning on both elbows and eyes slowly coming back into focus.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her tone was concerned more than anything.

Clarke chanced a glance at her and immediately looked away because she could _not_ exercise this much self-restraint if she saw how fucking good Lexa looked topless and lying on her couch.

“I just—“ she ran both hands through her hair again. “I don’t want our first time to be a crazy makeout session on an old sofa.”

Lexa’s mouth was still slightly open in surprise as she processed her words. Clarke watched as her eyes slowly ran down her body and couldn’t help the flush she felt.

“This sofa isn’t _that_ old,” Lexa insisted. “And—“

“Please don't try to talk me into this because I _will_ cave,” she breathed deep again, head hanging and eyes shut, “and I really don't want our first time to be like this after all this waiting.”

Lexa was quiet. Clarke looked up at her after a few moments, worried that she had screwed everything up. But Lexa just regarded her softly and sat up in her seat. She rubbed her face a couple times and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, hands working neat and fast with the small elastic band she always kept on her wrist. She sighed again.

“You're right. I’m sorry,,” Lexa said. Clarke just smiled and crossed her arms, slowly walking back to the couch again.

“No need to be sorry. Let’s just,” she paused in thought for a moment, “save it for a later and more appropriate time.”

Lexa’s eyebrows lifted once in agreement.

“That’s fair.”

“I’m glad you think so. Wouldn't want my mom walking in on—“

The sound of the front door creaking open interrupted her words, as if sent by whatever higher power is out there themselves. Clarke’s blood ran cold and Lexa froze next to her.

They both exploded into action in the next second, scrambling to find their clothes and fix themselves.

“Clarke, I’m home!” her mom called from the entry way. She heard one boot fall to the floor and knew that they had mere seconds.

She tossed Lexa her shirt as she scrambled to pull on her own. Lexa did her best to sit casually on the couch as Clarke tried to tame her hair.

Literally the moment after they’d accomplished some semblance of normalcy, Abby walked into the living room. She stopped at the sight of two girls instead of just one and looked inquisitively between them.

“Hi, mom!” Clarke exclaimed, internally wincing at how high her voice was. Abby eyed her suspiciously, looking back and forth between her and Lexa.

“Hello, Clarke,” she said. “And who is this?”

Lexa stood then, at attention as if she was in her uniform.

“Corporal Lexa Woods, ma’am. Third-year.” Her tone was clipped and careful and lightyears more controlled than Clarke’s.

“Nice to meet you in person, Lexa. I’ve heard great things about you,” Abby said as she shook her hand. She glanced at Clarke. “Some of which came from my daughter.”

Clarke felt her cheeks burn as Lexa looked at her in surprise, while she did her best to melt into the floor.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Lexa’s eyes flicked to Clarke’s and both girls knew that their night was over. With a curt nod, she turned to Abby.

“I should be going though. It’s getting late.”

Clarke barely suppressed a sigh and turned to give Lexa a small smile.

“I’ll walk you out.” Lexa nodded again in gratitude and Clarke tried not to notice how her face had shifted into an expression meant for training, for practice and Polis.

“Goodbye, Lexa,” her mom said, watching the two of them inch away.

“Yes, ma’am. Good night.”

The two girls were quiet as Lexa pulled her jacket and shoes on near the front door, both listening to the sounds of Clarke’s mom moving around in the kitchen. Clarke was the first to speak.

“I’m sorry. Her administration meetings usually run really late.” Lexa just looked at her and shook her head.

“Don’t apologize. To be honest, it’s probably a good thing or else we would’ve—“ She immediately flushed at the thought of what could’ve happened. Clarke swallowed against a suddenly dry throat and wondered where all that self-restraint had come from.

“Yeah,” she rasped, unable to say anything more.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Lexa asked.

 _Tomorrow_.

Clarke’s heart started hammering at the thought of what she had planned for the next day. She did her best to stay casual, to hide the enormity of her idea and pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Uh, yeah. Of course.”

Lexa smiled small and leaned in to kiss Clarke once on the cheek before turning to open the front door. The cold air blew into the hall and bit right through to the bone, and Clarke couldn’t help but shiver.

“Jesus, it’s so cold. Winter’s officially here, I guess.”

At that, Lexa seemed to freeze, her hand still on the knob and feet mid-step out the door.

She whirled around to Clarke, her eyes wide and mouth open as if searching for words.

“I—“ she said, “I—“

Clarke eyed her carefully, confused at the sudden shift in mood. Lexa looked like she was at a complete loss.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, taking a step closer. Lexa seemed to breathe again in the proximity, sighing as she looked down and away from her.

“Yeah, I just—“ she smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s nothing. Good night, Clarke.”

Clarke wasn’t convinced, but she nodded and raised a corner of her lips.

“Good night.”

Lexa turned and walked out the door, huddling in the chill as she made her way down the path. Clarke watched until she couldn’t see the small shadow in the yellow light of the street lamps and shut the door with a soft _click_.

She listened, hearing the water still running in the sink and the rattle of dishes being cleaned and put away. With a sigh, she made her way to accept her fate.

“So, that's Lexa, huh?” her mom said as Clarke entered the kitchen. She leaned against the fridge and tried to avoid her mother’s eyes.

“Yeah.”

“She’s pretty.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you guys, you know, official?”

Clarke barely swallowed a groan.

“No. Well, I guess—“ She stopped to take a breath. “I don't know.”

“Well, it seemed like there was some _official business_ going on here before I walked in—“

“ _Mom.”_ Clarke said, incredulous at her mother’s embarrassing declaration of the truth she was trying to deny.

“Honey, her shirt was inside out. It doesn't take a detective.”

Her face immediately burst into flames, but Abby smiled, much to her surprise.

“What?” Clarke asked.

“Nothing,” her mom said, cleaning the counter with an old towel. She looked up at Clarke, whose eyes were insistent and a little curious.

“It’s just,” Abby paused to wipe her hands on the dishrag. “You seem happy.”

The words hit Clarke square in the chest, emptying her lungs and quieting her heart for a moment. The silence gave her a chance to reflect and gauge and realize that, _yes,_ she was happy.

Clarke was happy.

The feelings exploded under her skin and she couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled out of her throat. She smiled and looked at her mom.

“I—I am.”

Abby sighed, eyes never leaving Clarke's face. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and her lips twitched once as they widened into a bigger smile.

“Good.” She turned back to the sink. “That's great. I’m glad.”

Clarke watched her mom busy herself with the dishes and felt her heart warm at their small revelation. She turned to leave, but was stopped again.

“Lexa’s a good girl, Clarke,” her mother said. “But she’s trained to be an even better soldier.”

“I know.”

Abby turned to face her. Her eyes were still happy, but something in the press of her mouth looked guarded, careful. Worried.

“Remember where we are, sweetie. What this school is. That’s all I ask.”

The words bit at something in the back of Clarke’s mind. They were eerily similar to Octavia’s cryptic words that afternoon.

“I know.”

Her mother nodded once, as if satisfied with the fact that she had shared the veiled words of warning.

“Good night, mom.”

“Good night, Clarke.”

Clarke made a quick exit. She was alone with her thoughts as she got ready for bed and laid alone in the dark.

The quiet was deafening, but not as loud as the buzzing in Clarke’s ears from the feelings that warred in her head. Confusion from the warnings about Lexa’s place in Polis, frustration from her evening with Lexa, concern about the future, anticipation for her plans the next morning. She tried to shake them all clear, but decided in the next moment that it was best to just sleep and let it be tomorrow.

Clarke turned on her side, clicking her phone open.

There was a message from Lexa.

**The couch isn’t that old.**

She laughed once, the sound sharp and loud in the empty room. She felt a light flush creep up her neck at the thought of what had happened on that sofa earlier that night. Tapping out a quick message and sending it with a _whoosh_ , Clarke committed to getting a respectable amount of sleep before her early morning.

**maybe, but we deserve better  
than a middle-aged couch**

**You’re too good to me.**

**good night, lexa. have a good  
run tomorrow morning.**

**Thank you. Good night,  
Clarke.**

She closed her messages and set her alarm for 4 AM before placing the phone on her nightstand, turning in bed to face the ceiling. She went through the plan one more time, her eyes drifting shut as she wondered and imagined how Lexa would react.

 _She’ll say yes,_ she told herself. _It’ll be easy and perfect and she’ll say yes._

Thankfully, sleep overtook her fast.

She had a lot of work to do before sunrise.

//

**I couldn’t do it, Lincoln. I**

**chickened out and didn’t ask  
her. I completely failed.**

**I don’t think I can do it.**

**It’s not even that hard. Why  
is this so hard?**

**Lincoln?**

**Oh god lexa I’m so sorry**

**I just left O at her dorm and**  
**saw your message don’t worry**  
**it will be okay. I’ll help you**  
**figure something out tomorrow.**

**Lexa?**

**Are you asleep?**

**I’ll see you in a second in the  
bunks**

**It’ll be okay.**

//

When her alarm rang the next morning, Lexa’s eyes were already open.

She had been awake for an hour or two, stirred from sleep by a dream where the colors were a bit too bright and the music was a bit too loud.

She reached a hand over to quiet the alarm and pushed the covers off, turning to set her feet on the icy floor.

Lexa could feel the grim set of her mouth and a tight feeling in her chest, the memory of what she _couldn’t_ do the night before weighing heavily on her mind.

Relying entirely on muscle memory, Lexa made her way through her morning routine and seemed to really awaken when she stepped outside. She felt the freezing air creep and unfurl through her lungs and it jarred her out of her trance.

She breathed deep several times, trying to get accustomed to the coldness spreading from her chest to the tips of her fingers and the bottoms of her feet. The clouds of warmth lost from inside her swirled with the slight wind, but before Lexa could think twice about running in weather that could turn her into ice, she took off down the sidewalk.

Because what was cold to someone who had lived most of her life with ice inside her?

Lexa braced against the temperature that seemed to make itself known on every inch of her skin. She willed and waited for the warmth inside her to burn and spread with the rhythm of her feet pounding on the concrete, but the air fought valiantly against it.

Her eyes stayed on the path in front of her, following the lines of concrete as the bobbed and passed. She let her mind focus entirely on the frosty air enveloping her, refusing to linger on the feelings that had plagued her since she left Clarke’s home without asking the one question she had wanted to ask.

_“Will you go to the Winter Ball with me?” Jesus, Lexa, is that so fucking hard to say?_

She berated herself, at a complete loss for why she couldn’t do it.

It was dumb, it was stupid, and it made no sense, but apparently Lexa was incapable of making a simple request to the girl who had become the very definition of lo—

_What the hell is that?_

Her eyes caught something on the sidewalk ahead of her.

_WILL_

Someone had drawn a giant word with chalk onto the cement. Lexa eyed it as it passed under her feet, not stopping to wonder what it was or why it was there.

She continued on, finally and thankfully starting to feel just a bit of heat spreading from her chest and pumping from her legs. The small clouds continued to puff from her breath as she soldiered on.

Before long, she spotted another word slowly come into view.

_YOU_

Lexa wondered what the hell these people were doing, drawing random words onto the path in the middle of the night. The words certainly hadn’t been there the morning before and to be honest, she felt a little offended that someone had defaced her—

_GO_

The next word greeted her as the turned the corner by the fields. They seemed to be only on her running route and it was strange—

_TO_

Little drawings began to litter the edges of the sidewalk, lining and leading the way on Lexa’s track. As if something inside her had figured it out before Lexa could, she felt her mind blank and her heart start to race more than a run could ever cause.

_THE_

In the corner of her eye, she spotted the flagpole rise in the distance. She started to wonder if—

_WINTER_

Lexa’s heart sputtered and she began to sprint faster, needing to know if this was really—

_BALL_

She breathed harder and harder.

_WITH_

Her eyes never left the path, watching and wanting and needing every word that passed under her feet.

_ME_

The last word was just several yards from the flagpole itself. When Lexa finally looked up, physically unable to comprehend the sum total of the words she had run past and in complete disbelief of the enormity of Clarke’s affections, she spotted the girl of her dreams standing in front of her house, hands folded behind her and watching Lexa with eyes so blue, she could see them from where she stood on the road.

Lexa stopped running, chest heaving and breath swirling like mad. She stared at Clarke and slowly walked through the fence and into the small yard.

Both girls simmered with nerves and anticipation as she approached Clarke, who was standing behind the biggest question mark Lexa had ever seen. The chalk was a sharp white against the ground, like ice or snow that had fallen in that exact shape just for them.

Clarke cleared her throat, as if she couldn’t keep quiet any longer. Lexa could see that she was nervous—her mouth was set in a small smile and her eyes searched Lexa’s for any sign, any hint of what she was thinking.

“I—uh. Surprise,” Clarke said. With that, she pulled her hands in front of her and revealed a large bouquet of flowers that she held to her chest and kind of hid behind.

This was it. This was how Lexa would die and leave this world.

From a heart too full.

Before she could say or do anything, Lexa rushed forward to pull Clarke into a kiss. It was deep and slow and everything Lexa wanted to say but couldn’t. It was _thank you_ and _I love you_ and _you are perfect for me_.

They both pulled back slightly and Clarke looked at her with big, apprehensive eyes.

“So, is that a yes?”

It was then that Lexa finally let her feelings explode out of her chest. She laughed, high and loud and happy about what her life had become. She sighed and looked at Clarke, heart on fire and on her sleeve.

“Yes. That is most definitely a yes.”

Clarke’s face broke into the biggest smile she had ever seen. She seemed to sag in relief, then reached out to gently take Lexa’s hand.

“Thank god, because I am absolutely freezing.”

Lexa’s smile felt easy, like she had been this happy all her life and had never known anything else.

Suddenly, the reveille sounded from behind them and pierced their little bubble. Lexa realized just how cold it was outside and shivered. Clarke gripped her hand a little harder and motioned towards the front door.

“Want to come in for a bit to warm up?”

Lexa almost said that she didn’t need to, because the hand in hers was the definition of warmth. That she felt it to her very core when Clarke was just standing next to her. She almost said that when Clarke was with her, she forgot every time in her life when she thought she was incapable of being anything more than ice, than cold steel that was built for survival and survival only. She almost said the three words that were repeating over and over in her head.

Instead, she just smiled and nodded once, letting herself be led up onto the porch and through the door. Because Lexa realized that she was happy to follow the girl in front of her to the ends of the Earth, through the gates of hell or heaven, into the home that had once been her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me @ei8htballer on tumblr & twitter. yell & I will listen attentively.
> 
> as always, thank you for the love.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the winter ball & everything afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even going to try to apologize because it's been 84 years. hope you guys enjoy this giant, tooth-rotting monster.  
> *throws 10k at you & runs away*
> 
> a note for those of you who like music &/or want the full experience:  
> listen to "Hooked on Swing" by Larry Elgart & the Manhattan Swing Orchestra once our favorite girls get to the ball. 
> 
> here's the link:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0r1ScvwezM

The days leading up to the Winter Ball passed in quick succession—fast enough that Clarke found herself scrambling to make her final preparations for the night.

She had asked Raven to help her with some last-minute shopping, which in her case meant she was still in need of a dress less than 24 hours before the dance.

“Okay, how about these?” Clarke asked, holding up a hanger in each hand. Raven analyzed them, eyes crinkling in thought, and scrunched her nose.

“The green is too long and the white one screams ‘virgin bride’, so no.”

Clarke groaned, exasperated at their endless search.

“You've had something bad to say about every dress I've showed you,” she grumbled. Raven simply continued to pick through the racks.

“Show me something good and I won't have anything to say,” she sing-songed. Clarke turned to the aisle across from her, combing the edges of the hangers. She grabbed another two that seemed nice and held them out to see if there was anything Raven could complain about.

“So, how’re you and Lexa doing?” Raven asked. Clarke smiled lightly, not looking away from the dresses.

“She’s good. We’re good.” She sighed, thinking about how they saw each other nearly every day, spent time together whenever they had the chance. “We’re really good.”

Raven smiled too, which quickly devolved to a massive eye-roll.

“You guys are still as mushy as ever, I see.”

“The mushiest.”

“Ugh, gross.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Clarke asked, as carefully and casually as she could manage.

“Nope,” Raven said, popping the “p” with her lips. “I’m in a committed relationship with my studies and considering I'm first in my class by a solid half point, everyone can go suck a collective dick.”

Clarke laughed, shaking her head slightly at her friend.

“Speaking of committed relationships,” Raven started, “have you guys talked, like, long-term?”

Clarke pursed her lips at the thought of the one topic she and Lexa had steered completely clear of. What they had was just so _good_.

Why screw it up with all that messy talk?

Lexa was tentative about the subject, and in the deepest part of Clarke’s mind, the prospect of losing Lexa to some far-off, long-promised obligation terrified her.

“I’m taking your silence as a no.”

“We haven't.”

“Clarke, this is—“ Raven paused, as if searching for the right words. “If you guys really have something special, you should at least talk about what’s gonna happen when—“

“How about these?” Clarke interrupted, lifting up the two hangers closest to her hands. A conversation like that could only have one conclusion and to be honest, she’d been down that road a million times in her head and it was the last thing she wanted to talk about with the Winter Ball so close.

Raven eyed her for a moment and sighed, deflating slightly in defeat. Clarke knew that she and Octavia had been talking in secret about their relationship, concerned and cautious like best friends were, like someone smitten usually wasn’t.

“The blue one,” Raven replied, accepting the change in subject. She took the hanger from her hand and held it against Clarke’s chest, leaning back to see the entirety of the dress. She nodded once as if confirming her answer. “Lexa’s gonna trip on her own feet when she sees you in this.”

Clarke smirked in response.

“You think so?”

“Definitely. She’ll bust her other knee and make you sad because she won’t be able to dance, then I’d have to kick her ass.” Raven laughed and Clarke rolled her eyes. The apparent clumsiness of her otherwise incredibly athletic girlfriend was—

_Huh._

Girlfriend.

A look of surprise had evidently passed through her face because Raven raised her eyebrows in question.

“Did you call her your girlfriend in your head again?” The question was blunt, almost annoyed.

“Yeah,” Clarke mumbled. Her friend sighed, definitely annoyed.

“Just ask her. _Tell_ her because this is getting way too high school for my taste.” She began returning the veritable stack of dresses to their respective places, leaning heavily on her cane while trying to replace a particularly poofy one.

“I will, I promise,” Clarke assured her.

“Good. Then, let’s go get some food. My leg’s starting to get sore and I could _kill_ a burrito. Buy me lunch.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

//

Classes let out a couple hours early that Friday afternoon, as per Winter Ball tradition. Everyone was abuzz with excitement as they filtered out of the various buildings, rushing to get back to their dorms and prepare for the big night.

Lexa hung back from the traffic to walk back to the bunks with Lincoln and Emori, Bellamy long gone because of the extra time his hair demanded.

They strolled down the paths, gaits loose and smiles easy despite the cold because it was the afternoon of the best night of the year and all three of them had hit their respective date jackpots.

Well, Lexa was still a little uncertain on why Emori thought Murphy was so great, but hey. To each their own.

The three chatted, conversation and topics looping around the who’s and what’s and how’s of that night.

“Do either of you have an iron I could borrow for my dress shirt?” Lincoln asked. The two girls shared a look and shrugged in unison.

“Sorry, dude,” Emori said.

“I’m sure Bellamy has three different irons for you to choose from, don't worry,” Lexa supplied.

“I’d believe it,” Lincoln chuckled, shaking his head. They walked in silence for a moment, listening to the sounds of their footsteps and the low chatter from what seemed to be the entire campus.

“Yo, tonight’s gonna be _bomb,_ ” Emori yelled suddenly, clasping her mittened hands together. Lexa and Lincoln jumped a little in surprise at the outburst, but laughed along with their friend.

Lincoln slung a giant arm around Emori’s neck, pulling her in for a tight one-armed hug as they both whooped, skipping ahead towards their dorm.

Lexa stayed behind, watching them race up and into the building and waving them ahead as they motioned for her to hurry. She was content to take her time, to let it all sink in and savor the feeling.

Her cheeks were already a little sore from smiling so much. She could only imagine what she’d feel like by the end of the dance.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

 **T-3 hours till you sweep  
** **me off my feet**

Lexa laughed, quiet and breathy, at her screen. Clarke was just as excited as her and it only added to the growing feeling in her chest. She typed out a quick response.

**I thought you’d be the one  
doing the sweeping.**

The reply was almost immediate, three blinking dots showing up as soon as the text was sent.

 **plans change, I demand**  
**to be swept**

**Orders are orders.**

**glad we’re on the same**  
**page, corporal**

**Yes ma’am.**

Lexa paused for a moment, before tapping out another text.

//

The little bubble that mirrored Lexa’s typing blinked slowly on Clarke’s screen.

**I’m really excited for  
tonight.**

The smile started slow, but spread and grew like a wildfire across her face. She barely held back a giggle—a fucking _giggle_ —as she read the text over and over again.

Clarke was so excited for that night. Over the moon and beyond words at how much she was looking forward to going to this infamous Winter Ball, to music and dancing and friends.

To being with Lexa through it all.

(To Lexa in full uniform, but that was a bit of a secret.)

She typed a response, tongue poking out between her lips.

 **me too. so much.**  
**it’s gonna be great**

**I sure hope so**

**Do you think sweatpants**  
**are suitable attire?**

Clarke rolled her eyes at the joke.

 **sweatpants will go great with**  
**the pajamas I’m gonna wear**

**Perfect.**

**agreed**

She set her phone down then, looking back up at herself in the small mirror. She had all her stuff strewn out in front of her, and even though there was more than enough time to get ready, Clarke couldn't wait any longer.

As she reached for a brush, her phone buzzed again.

 **Clarke, just to be sure,**  
**I was kidding**

 **I wouldn't go in**  
**sweatpants**

**I’m going in full parade dress**

**You do know that** **right?**

Clarke laughed and shook her head.

**yes Lex, don't worry**

**I just figured that maybe**  
**a text wouldn't convey the**  
**joke clearly**

**the joke was received,  
over**

**Okay. Good.**  
**I’ll pick you up at 6?**

**roger that, over**

**Ha ha, Clarke. Very**  
**funny.**

 **glad to see joke was**  
**received, over**

 **Alright, I have to start**  
**getting ready. I’ll see**  
**you in a bit, radio star.**  
**Over and out.**

**miss you already**

She was grinning like an idiot at the small screen in her hand when there was a knock at her door.

“Come in,” she said, turning to see it open by her mom.

“Hey, honey.” She walked over to Clarke. “Getting ready?”

“About to start,” Clarke said with a smile. Her mom answered with one of her own and placed her hands on Clarke’s shoulders. She looked at her in the mirror and squeezed lightly.

“I just wanted to let you know that I have an important meeting in a bit so I have to leave.”

Clarke nodded, but pursed her lips in thought.

“A meeting? Tonight?”

Her mother sighed.

“Yeah. Someone very important surprised me with a docket and briefing tonight. It’ll probably run overnight so I—won't be home.”

Clarke’s face blazed at the implication behind her words and why she had paid her a visit. Her eyes flew down and away from her mom’s.

“Oh, um yeah. Sure. That’s…fine.”

“Clarke,” her mom deadpanned. Clarke peeked at her to see a stern, but slightly amused face.

“I know it's serious between you and Lexa. You're hardly a child and to be honest, I like the fact that I don't have to be worried about you getting pregnant—”

“ _Mom.”_

“But,” her mom continued emphatically, “I still wanted to tell you to be safe and make good choices.”

Clarke was pretty sure her face was completely red, but she managed to nod. Her mom laughed, light and small, and sighed in the next breath.

“Lexa’s a great girl. I'm glad you two found each other.”

Clarke’s eyes shot up in surprise, the words sincere and honest enough to change the temperature of the room instantly.

She rested a hand on top of her mom’s and met her eye in the mirror.

“Me too.”

//

The minutes crawled along at a pace Clarke could only describe as _glacial,_ but eventually, a shy knock at the front door interrupted her nervous pacing in the living room.

She stood straight, running her hands down the front of her dress and checking herself in the window’s reflection one last time before grasping the door knob.

With a deep breath, she swung the door open and reminded herself to—

Holy _shit_.

Lexa stood tall at her doorstep, hands clasped behind her back and absolutely pristine in her formal uniform.

It was almost a suit, but too fitted and formal and official to be something so simple. Pins and medals and colored badges adorned her chest, alongside a small gold plate that simply stated the wearer to be _Woods_. She wore a starched white dress shirt, where the peek of a tie gave way to a tan glimpse of Lexa’s graceful neck that led all the way up to the curve of her jawline and a shy smile. Her hair was up in a light and wavy ponytail, smooth enough to probably be regulation but loose enough to curl over her shoulders in soft locks.

Clarke had only seen her in the usual button down and khakis, so this was a bit of a religious experience.

Her eyes slowly trailed down Lexa from head to toe, more than mesmerized and less than composed in her attraction. When they flicked back up to Lexa’s face, there was a light shade of pink high in her cheekbones and a timid quirk to her lips.

Clarke cleared her throat, embarrassed at her blatant display and smiled shyly.

“Hi,” she whispered.

Lexa grinned.

“Hello, Clarke.”

Lexa stepped closer and pulled gently at her elbow to kiss her cheek.

“You look beautiful.”

She knew she looked good. The graceful dark blue dress was tight where it should be and flowed where she wanted it. Her hair was tucked in a loose bun, some pieces left down to frame her face and eyes, and makeup light . She had on a pair of silver heels that matched the shade of her earrings and brought her just high enough to see straight into Lexa’s green eyes.

All in all, Clarke felt great. But still, she tried and failed to keep a blush at bay, simply stepping closer to Lexa in response.

“You look _amazing_.” She ran a hand up Lexa’s sleeve. “I have official confirmation that I have a thing for uniforms.”

Lexa had just as much success in hiding her quickly reddening cheeks, but her smile was blinding.

“Glad I could be of service.”

“I mean, wow. This is—I like this.”

Lexa chuckled, emboldened by Clarke’s flustered state.

“We make a pretty great couple, don’t we?” she said, her grin dimpled and wide.

At that, Clarke froze and swallowed, blindsided by the nervous weight that had suddenly sat on her tongue. It would be so easy to just glance over that word— _couple—_ and the other word that had been bouncing around her mind for weeks now, but she had promised herself (and Raven) that she would clear the waters between them before they left for the dance.

And Clarke kept her promises.

“About that. I know this is the worst timing ever but I needed to ask. Is this—are we—“

The confusion was evident in Lexa’s expression, her eyebrows furrowed and eyes searching Clarke’s. Clarke lifted a hand to straighten Lexa’s already perfect collar just to give herself something to do and somewhere else to look.

“I hate how high school this sounds, but are we official? Can I—“ she breathed and cursed under her breath because she swore her pulse was echoing across the porch.

“Can I call you my girlfriend?”

There was a heavy kind of quiet after the words met the air and Clarke was pretty sure Lexa’s chest had stopped moving under her jacket. Clarke opened her mouth to hastily retract her offer because _it’s fine really_ and _who needs_ —

“Yes.”

Her eyes jumped to Lexa’s at the response, more surprised than anything at the blinding smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Lexa repeated, “I’d like that.”

Clarke chuckled then, more so in relief and the way the nerves washed away from the center of her chest.

“That’s…good.”

“Yeah?”

“Because I have been for the past couple days or so and I’ve already gotten used to it,” Clarke joked, trying to sound nonchalant, but even she noted the happiness in her voice. Lexa just grinned.

“Might as well go with it then, right?”

“I guess so.”

They stood there for a moment, beaming at each other and their newly minted titles, excited and happy and more than a tad nervous. Lexa broke the trance first, coughing once and pulling slightly at her cuff.

“So now that that’s all worked out,” Lexa said, holding out an arm for Clarke, “I believe we have a ball to get to.”

Clarke smiled as she took Lexa’s arm and stepped off the porch towards campus.

The night was mild, but winter still made its presence known. Enough so that both of them were grateful for their jackets and were looking forward to finding their way back indoors. Their hands were cold and their cheeks were sore from either the biting breeze or from smiling too much, but neither gave it any thought.

Clarke could’ve sworn that she didn’t even feel the winter wind—not when she was tucked so close to Lexa. She wasn’t cold and could never be because unlike what everyone seemed to say and think, her girlfriend was warmer than anyone Clarke had ever known.

//

Music from the inside of the building filtered steadily through the walls, the sounds of the dance growing louder as they approached the entrance.

Traditionally, the Winter Ball had a live band that only played jazz and swing music. There wouldn’t be a second of modern pop because this was the one night where it was cool to be old-fashioned and remember how they used to have fun in the “good ol’ days”, as Lexa’s father used to say.

The swift beat sparked something in Lexa—memories of an old record player in her living room, her parents dancing around the rug, her dad teaching her how to keep up with him when she was just a little girl.

But instead of a wave of sadness, of _grief_ , she was filled with a sense of happiness in being able to share this piece of herself with Clarke. She tucked the arm in hers a little closer to her body and sent a silent _thank you_ up into the night sky.

The blare of trumpets, the rumble of the bass, the raspy beat of the drums, even the pulse of people yelling and dancing and having a good time—all of it was palpable and enough to make them walk a little faster towards the party.

The Winter Ball would be a vision to someone new to it all and Lexa was excited for Clarke to see it. She jogged ahead to open the door for her date, sweeping an arm for her to enter.

As she stepped through, Clarke’s face absolutely lit up at the sight of the transformed mess hall and Lexa chuckled as she followed her inside.

She took Clarke’s jacket off her shoulders and brought it to the small coat check corner, giving her a minute to really take in the entirety of the scene.

The whole ceiling was covered in fairy lights, bathing the place in a soft glow. Round tables with white tablecloths surrounded a clear area of the floor that was crowded with couples, laughing and dancing and moving in time with the beat of a band that played on top of a small, raised stage.

The place glittered in the light, with shiny medals and pins on various proud chests, with smiles that were unabashed and excited for the prospect of the night.

“This is amazing,” Clarke said, eyes sweeping around in awe. She turned to Lexa who had quickly returned to her side. “Is it like this every year?”

Lexa thought back to the winter balls of years past—her standing on the sidelines, drink in hand and just watching everyone else. But now, with Clarke standing before her, a vision in a blue gown, blue eyes, hand in hers, Lexa couldn’t help but laugh and shake her head.

“I definitely think this year’s is different.” Clarke caught the meaning behind her eyes and words and blushed, looking down at the floor.

In the background, the song that had been playing faded to an end and the band shifted into a tune that Lexa knew better than any other music from the past 50 years.

“Come on,” she said, a sudden burst of bravery rushing through her as she pulled on Clarke’s hand, “let’s dance.”

The surprised look on her face was almost funny.

“You…want to dance?” she asked. She managed to recover quickly. “I mean, can you even dance?” The teasing was evident in her voice. Lexa smirked wickedly at her.

“I bet I’m better than you are.”

“Not a chance.”

“Clarke, my parents were military _veterans_ who went to this dance almost every year since they were our age. I was _raised_ on swing.”

“Wait,” Clarke said, stopping in her tracks, “I don’t know how to dance to swing music.” Her eyes were wide as she took in the crowd on behind her. Lexa grinned then, earnest and happy.

“Don’t worry, just follow my lead.”

Lexa walked her onto the dance floor amongst the throng of bodies that stepped and jumped and swirled around in time with the quick beat of the music. She pulled her close, placing one of Clarke’s hands on her own shoulder and her hand on the small of Clarke’s back. She clasped their other hands tight and began swaying in time with the music.

“It’s all about fast steps with the beat. Just kinda bounce on the balls of your feet and move with me. Ready?” Lexa said, dancing slowly at first with the song. Clarke smiled a little and nodded. As Lexa began moving and stepping in earnest, Clarke watched her feet, trying to copy her. With every second, she got more and more confident until she was keeping up with Lexa without a problem.

Lexa beamed in surprise at how well she was doing and Clarke threw her head back and laughed, high and loud. The music was abuzz and everywhere in the room, and yet Lexa could hear every note of Clarke’s laugh.

“Jesus, is there anything you can’t do?” Lexa asked as she twirled her around once. Some of Clarke’s hair had escaped from its pins and two of Lexa’s collar buttons had come undone and it was perfect.

“You can call me Clarke,” she answered with a smirk. Lexa rolled her eyes, but didn't hide her smile.

They swirled and moved and danced way too close to each other through three, four, _five_ songs before Lexa had to call it quits. As the band surged and rose to a crescendo for the big ending, she and Clarke finished chest to chest, breaths heaving and smiles too big for their faces.

She tugged on Clarke’s hand and motioned at the drink table.

“I need a break,” she puffed.

“What? C’mon, one more song,” Clarke said, pulling back on her hand.

“We’ve been dancing for like 20 minutes straight! Aren’t you tired?” Lexa asked incredulously. Clarke shook her head with a huge grin.

“Lex, it’s so _fun_.”

“Seriously, just one drink and we can come right back. It’s like a sauna in my uniform right now,” she said.

Suddenly, someone approached them and placed a heavy hand on Lexa’s shoulder.

“If the Commander is too tired to keep up with you, I’d be glad to take over.” His tone was smug and teasing, and Lexa couldn’t help but squint at Bellamy.

“Go grab your drink, babe, he’ll keep me company for a bit,” Clarke said. Bellamy took advantage of Lexa’s pause at Clarke’s term of endearment and led her back onto the dance floor.

Taking a breath, Lexa ambled over to the refreshments and poured herself a cup of punch. She turned to face the swirling crowd and lifted the drink to her lips, only to almost spit everything out.

“Looks like Operation Trainwreck was a success,” a voice said next to her.

It was Lincoln with a big smile on his face.

She pursed her lips at the bitter taste of the otherwise sweet punch. It wasn’t even that strong, but the tang of alcohol had surprised her. She swallowed and felt the ghost of a burn down her throat.

“Operation Trainwreck?”

“Trains run on railroads, which are built with railroad _spikes_ ,” he explained, lifting his cup at the last word. “Apparently it was one of the cadet’s ideas. Pretty clever.”

“What even is it?” Lexa asked, making a face. She hadn’t tasted anything like it before.

“Moonshine.”

Lexa’s eyebrows rose in surprise at Lincoln and he just shrugged.

“We’re going to have to watch out for these cadets,” he said with a smile. He raised the cup to his lips and took a big gulp.

Lexa nodded in agreement, feeling her stomach grow a little warmer. They stood side-by-side by the punch table, almost funny in their size difference but making the perfect duo. Lincoln stood tall as an impressive figure with a perfect uniform stretched over his torso, while Lexa imposed in every other definition, gleaming in her achievements hanging proudly at her chest.

“Whew, sorry I took so long. Line in the bathroom was—“

Both Lincoln and Lexa turned to see a frozen Octavia, eyes wide and staring at Lexa.

As if by sheer impulse, Octavia snapped to attention, heels clicking and arms straight at the sides of her dress.

Lexa furrowed her eyebrows and Lincoln tried not to laugh.

“At ease, Blake,” Lexa said, lifting another cup of punch to her lips. “I’m definitely not an officer tonight.”

Octavia relaxed, her face and the curve of her shoulders visibly relieved. She made her way over to Lincoln’s side and eyed Lexa carefully.

“So I can call you by your first name?”

“Sure.”

“No saluting?”

“Nope.”

“And I can tease you about Clarke?”

Lexa raised a single eyebrow at her, and Octavia lifted both hands in surrender.

“Okay, line drawn,” she said with a grin. She leaned in to whisper to Lincoln. “But the line is no fun.”

Lexa eyed the space between the two of them, noticing how close they were standing, how soft Lincoln’s eyes were and how Octavia seemed to relax around him.

“I see you’re having no issue not treating him like a superior officer,” Lexa said with a challenging twist of her lips. Octavia visibly tensed, but Lincoln smiled.

“Well, I mean she is my girlfr—“

“I’ll be right back,” Octavia said, making a quick exit.

Both Lexa and Lincoln stood in surprised silence as Octavia evaporated into thin air. Lexa looked up at him, confused and expecting some sort of explanation.

“What the hell was that?” she asked.

“I—I don’t know.”

Lexa paused for a moment, doing her best to be as gentle as possible.

“You do realize which word made her leave, right?”

Lincoln sighed.

“Yes, Lexa.”

“Have you guys talked about it?”

“Um, not really.” He rubbed a hand on top of his head. “She’s avoided it.”

“But you’ve called her your girlfriend before.”

“Yeah, I have. Which probably isn’t great on my part, but I’m having trouble getting her to open up about it.”

As much as Lexa wanted to stay humble in respect of her friend’s dilemma, she couldn’t help the massive smile that exploded on her face.

(Maybe it was a smirk, she couldn’t tell the difference.)

Lincoln stared at her as if it was unlike anything he had ever seen before. When the realization hit him, he groaned and rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe _you_ beat me to the girlfriend talk.”

“To be fair, Clarke initiated it, but I helped seal the deal.”

“ _You._ Queen of ice. Who’s been with like _one_ —“

Lexa coughed then, harsh and sudden and desperate to end the conversation as she spotted Clarke quickly approaching them with a sweaty Bellamy in tow.

She, of course, still looked immaculate.

Lexa passed her cup to Clarke when she reached them, who promptly downed the whole thing.

“Whew, thanks, I was super thirsty,” she said, slamming the cup down on the table. Lexa and Lincoln shared a look before staring back at Clarke.

“What?”

“Did you—notice anything about the drink?” Lexa asked carefully.

“Oh yeah, moonshine. Exactly what I needed actually. Come on,” she said, grabbing Lexa’s hand. “Next song’s starting.”

Lexa locked eyes with Bellamy as she was pulled back towards the dance floor. He just shook his head, mouthing _good luck_ at her before pouring himself a healthy serving of the spiked punch.

She found herself in the middle of the crowd with Clarke as it cheered when the last song ended and transitioned into another. They started with the beat and Lexa was more than surprised at how Clarke seemed to be leading her instead of the other way around. She spun Lexa around and under her right hand, pulling her in tight again before smirking proudly at her. Lexa threw her head back, a laugh that started at her toes and bounded out of her. She marveled at how warm her girlfriend was pressed close to her, at the swirling excitement that moved through the mass of dancing bodies, at the happiness that seemed to have replaced her very blood.

As the night went on, the sharp colors and starched corners of uniforms seemed to soften and dull, making way for the real way a night of fun was supposed to feel. Because even though they were in the strictest, most straight-laced place on their side of the country, someone managed to spike the punch and everyone who wasn’t supposed to just looked the other way. It was bubbly and not that strong, but strong enough to redden cheeks and loosen limbs and raise the volume of the room a couple notches.

Lexa and Clarke ran into all of their friends, exchanging dance partners for a few minutes at a time, but the two of them always found their way back to each other. Never more than a few steps away from the other, always close enough to catch a glance.

Clarke discovered that Lincoln was pretty good at dancing as well, while Lexa found out that Octavia was atrocious at it (though with no lack of effort). They managed to get Monty to ask Miller to dance and Bellamy disappeared halfway through the party with Echo for a “walk through campus.” Jasper spotted a cute cadet from another block and spent almost all his time trying to pluck up the courage to talk to her.

Lexa even saw Gus in a tux that was probably a size too small for him, complete with a small gold bowtie. She waved at him and promised him a dance later on, but was more puzzled by his wife not being at his side.

As much as Anya hated to admit it, she loved these balls just as much as everyone else. She wasn’t as good of a dancer as Lexa, which she pretty easily admitted because, hey, Lexa was fucking fantastic.

Anya’s absence and the tiny wrinkle of worry that hung over Gus’s brow made a small corner of her mind whisper with uneasiness. But before she could think twice about it, Clarke tugged on her sleeve, asking for a slow dance among all the fast ones and Lexa could no longer think about anything other than the feeling of Clarke in her arms and how it seemed the words cooed into the microphone were just for them.

//

A little while later, Clarke and Lexa were standing around with their friends, laughing and teasing and talking. Cup after cup of punch had been emptied, enough so that each of them had a pleasant hum running like a current just underneath their skin. Clarke had snuck an arm around Lexa’s back, snuggling close under her neck when Lexa felt the sudden need for fresh air.

“Want to go outside for a bit?” she whispered in Clarke’s ear. She looked up at her, eyes slightly glazed and nodded quietly.

They pulled away from the group without a word and Lexa would be lying if she said she didn’t notice (and ignore) a few knowing smirks.

She retrieved their jackets from the coat check and stepped outside, shivering for a moment in the chill.

Winter had given the students a slight reprieve for once with a survivable breeze and a clear sky, as if aware of how special the night was, as if pleased to have a ball named in its honor.

Their breaths mingled in the air as they stood arm in arm under the crowning glow of a street lamp, smiling because they were happy and because they were together and alone.

Lexa opened her mouth because it seemed that the alcohol had managed to loosen the usually guarded bridge between her tongue and her brain.

“Do you believe in fate?” she asked, low but loud in the quiet.

Clarke pulled her coat tight around her before stepping closer to Lexa.

“I do.” She breathed out once, a puff of air floating like a cloud from her lips. “A lot actually.” She turned to Lexa. “Do you?”

Lexa nodded, soft and solemn.

“Elaborate.”

“What?”

“Tell me what you think. I want to know.”

Lexa watched her, eyes wide and open in every definition. She rubbed her forehead once and took a few steps, slowly meandering around Clarke while she gathered her thoughts.

“I think everyone has a place in the universe. A role.” She paused, tongue heavy and breath short. “Destiny might be too corny of a word for me. Like, I don’t know. It’s kind of comforting, really, to think that you were put on this Earth for a certain purpose. I just think—“ she breathed again, surprised at how hard it was to form words through the buzz of moonshine and honesty in her ears. She faced Clarke then, taking her hand.

“I believe there are things that are meant to be,” she continued. She turned over her left hand and traced Clarke’s fingers along the silver scar that now crossed Lexa’s palm, cut cleanly into her life line.

Clarke watched her with warm eyes. Eyes so warm that Lexa found it hard to look at her.

“Like us,” Lexa said.

Her heart was in her throat and Clarke’s eyes might have been tearing up, but it was all okay because Lexa believed in the words like they were etched into her skin.

“You softie.”

Clarke’s hoarse whisper pulled a small chuckle from Lexa. She lifted Clarke’s fingers to her lips, the touch mingling so that neither knew where the warmth stopped and the cold began.

Lexa felt Clarke’s pulse racing, louder and faster than her own. Her own heart was beating slow, steady, calm.

At peace, maybe.

She saw Clarke’s chest rise and fall, a deep breath filling her. Her blue eyes glistened and looked straight into her. She saw her lips form the words before she heard them.

“I love you.”

The words seeped into Lexa’s bones and her heartbeat made itself known again.

When she had imagined those words, they were stolen moments alone where she let herself indulge, as if it was a fantasy of the farthest order. She hadn’t expected the words to be said with such reverence in her lifetime, to her in this way by a girl with eyes like that and a smile like no other.

Much to her surprise, Lexa’s own answer was immediate, falling from her lips between the spaces of Clarke’s fingertips, without pause and without any doubt.

“I love you, too.”

The way Clarke’s face lit up was worth every second that had led up to that exact moment. The happiness bubbled up inside Lexa, as if their declaration had opened a floodgate deep inside.

She took a step back and cupped her hands around her mouth, facing up to the sky.

“I love Clarke Griffin!” she yelled, her voice echoing across the dark campus. Clarke flailed and rushed up to her, pulling her hands down and holding her close.

“Oh my god, shush! That was so loud,” Clarke whispered harshly, but her giant smile betrayed her. Lexa just grinned, happy and buzzed and so, so content because she loved Clarke and Clarke loved her.

“It’s okay,” Lexa whispered back, “I don’t think _everyone_ heard.” Clarke shook her head, eyes closed and laughing quietly. Lexa looked at her with unconcealed affection, now completely unafraid of letting it show. She took Clarke’s hand and placed it on her own cheek, reveling in the soft feel, the warmth.

She turned slightly to kiss the palm and heard Clarke sigh in response.

This was it. This was what Lexa had been waiting for.

“Softie,” Clarke whispered again. Lexa smiled at her and pulled her close at the waist.

“Only for you.”

They kissed.

//

In time, they found their way back inside because even if winter had let up for the night, it was chilly enough for them to crave the warmth inside the dance.

With cheeks pink from the cold and the alone time and hands intertwined, they rejoined their friends, loud and boisterous amongst the already rowdy party.

Lincoln raised a single eyebrow at Clarke after noticing the hand she had snuck into Lexa’s back pocket. Clarke could only respond with an embarrassed smile and Lincoln just smiled, shaking his head.

“Lexa!” Octavia exclaimed suddenly. She waved a tiny hand at Lincoln. “Tell him that I’m good at dancing.”

Lexa’s eyes darted between her and the mountain of a man, smiling slightly by the frustration emanating from Octavia and the amusement in Lincoln’s expression. Clarke barely concealed a laugh.

“You’re—“ Lexa searched for a suitable word. “—okay.”

“See!” Octavia explained, whirling around to face Lincoln. She paused then, as if just processing Lexa’s response. “Wait, I’m _okay?_ ”

“O, your confidence is great and all, but dancing isn’t your forte,” Clarke supplied. Lexa squeezed her gently in gratitude.

“Don’t worry, I can help you,” Lincoln said with a slight smirk. Octavia grabbed his hand then, immediately pulling him towards the dance floor and grumbling all the way.

Clarke leaned into the dip of Lexa’s shoulder to hide a laugh, a breath escaping into the space between her neck and her unbuttoned collar.

You see, she shouldn’t have been surprised at how warm the skin there was. She shouldn’t have been surprised at how soft it was when her nose rubbed against it, or how _good_ Lexa smelled.

But what she was surprised about was the wave of goosebumps that passed over Lexa’s skin as her lips ghosted over it.

Lexa cleared her throat, fidgeting under her uniform as Clarke tried to recoup from the very alarming flush that had raced through her.

The tapering buzz of the alcohol was leaving Clarke clear enough to recognize that the pulse under her skin was no longer from the moonshine, but because of her girlfriend.

And apparently, Lexa was feeling something very similar.

Feeling more than emboldened at this fact, Clarke decided to throw caution to the wind and, well, see just how far she could take this.

Clarke snuck the hand around Lexa’s side under the edge of her jacket, resting it on the shirt inside and over the gentle curve of her hip. Doing her best to remain nonchalant, she began tracing lazy circles.

A tiny shudder ran through Lexa.

“Are you okay?” Clarke asked innocently. Lexa coughed into a fist.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She tugged a bit on her collar before peeling herself away from Clarke.

“I’m gonna, uh,” Lexa stammered, “I’m going to grab us a drink.”

Blinking at the sudden escape, Clarke stood alone and slightly embarrassed at the turn of events.

Lexa was just being chivalrous and very respectful, but what if Clarke wanted her to just _take—_

“You must be Clarke.”

She turned to the voice beside her and almost took a step backwards in surprise.

A behemoth of a man watching the dance floor stood beside her, his bright smile and small gold tie a stark contrast to the sheer size of him.

“Um yes, that’s—me,” she said, more than a little confused.

He spotted her apprehension and faced her full-on, an embarrassed laugh raining down from him.

“I've forgotten my manners. My name is Gus.” He stuck out a giant hand. “Lexa’s my niece.”

“Oh!” Clarke blurted, eyebrows shooting up. “I—She—I didn't know she had an uncle here.”

Lexa hadn’t mentioned any family besides her parents and it twisted something small inside Clarke.

“Well, I guess niece might not be the proper term. Maybe more like adopted family.” He paused to consider something. “My wife is like an older sister to her.”

 _Ah._ That, Lexa had mentioned. Someone she had known since she was a little girl, someone who had turned into a refuge amongst the wreckage of her parents’ passing.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Clarke said, taking the hand and shaking it. Gus smiled at her again, seemingly pleased at how fast and well she had processed the information.

“Likewise. It’s nice to match a face to a name that Lexa speaks so often.”

Clarke felt the tips of her ears warm in response.

“She—really? I mean,” she cleared her throat, embarrassed. “Lexa’s great.”

 _Great._ She scoffed at herself internally. The understatement of the semester.

“Takes greatness to recognize it.”

“Well, I see where Lexa gets her casual charm.”

Gus laughed and leaned closer, as if sharing a secret.

“She has a standing dinner reservation at our house every Monday night.” He nodded once at her. “Come to the next one. Anya and I would love to have you.”

The name niggled something in the back of Clarke’s mind, but it was quickly engulfed in the enormity of his words.

Dinner with Lexa’s family.

Before she could rethink it or stare for a socially unacceptable amount of time, she opened her mouth.

“I’d love to, but I think we should consult Lexa before—”

“Consult me about what?” Lexa said, reappearing at her side. Her eyes followed Clarke’s and grew wide at who she had been chatting with.

“Hey Lex, I just invited her to dinner this Monday,” he stated, without fanfare. He grinned wickedly at her. “No takebacks. Don't be late.”

He made his escape before Lexa could even open her mouth, leaving the two to reflect on the fact that they had crossed, like, _twelve_ relationship milestones just that night.

Lexa faced her.

“If it's too much or too soon for you, I'd understand.”

“I want to.” The reply was quick and sincere. Clarke smiled at her and Lexa stared, eyes darting all over her face as if trying to memorize her.

Before either of them could say anything more, Lexa’s hands shot up and pulled her in for a kiss. It was harder than usual and Clarke barely held off a squeak when Lexa ran her tongue against her bottom lip. When they separated and Clarke met her eyes, she was surprised at how dark and dilated they were.

Hungry, maybe.

It sparked something in Clarke and the words were out of her lips before she could think twice.

“Wanna get out of here?”

She tensed at her own question, at what was _really_ being asked. But before she could even think about retracting the offer, Lexa nodded, small and quick, and took her hand.

//

When they pulled their jackets on, blushing and quiet in their rushed exit, and walked back out into the cold, they realized the weight of their decision and slowed down.

They walked down the pathway, arms linked and shoulders touching. Lexa’s heart rate had begun its slow descent back to normal, but still, it bounded and echoed in her ears. Clarke was very obviously trying to control her breathing, and if the uneven clouds swirling around her were any indication, she was having a bit of trouble.

Lexa’s mind was going a hundred directions at once, but it was of little importance compared to the heat that had pooled in the base of her stomach and the warm flush of her skin.

She berated herself for acting like a teenage boy, at being unable to control herself with Clarke but—

Jesus _Christ._ She couldn't help it.

Not when Clarke looked like that in her dress, not when she laughed when she danced, not when she got along so well with Gus.

And _especially_ not when she looked at her with those eyes.

Lexa clenched a fist in her pocket, willing her blood to cool in the winter air. She blinked hard against the haze and looked up at the sky, breathing in through her nose.

 _Good_ , she thought. _That’s better._

If she was going to do this right—treat Clarke right—then the first step was to clear her head.

They reached a split in the sidewalk, one way leading to the east side of campus and the other to the west.

Or, in more important terms, either the dorms or the house by the flagpole.

Before Lexa even had a chance to contemplate the decision, Clarke took a left and led them towards the house.

“My mom isn't home,” Clarke said, quiet and careful. “She’s out for the night.”

Lexa thought for a moment.

“Did she—uh, did she clear out for…”

She wasn't able to complete the question in fear of her ears spontaneously combusting.

“Oh god, no,” Clarke answered, hearing the unfinished thought. “No, no, no, it's not that. She had a meeting with some important government official.” She breathed out, coughing once in embarrassment.

Lexa smiled, a little in relief and a lot at how cute a flustered Clarke was.

“Well, that's...good,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. Too bad her voice cracked.

Clarke laughed in earnest and walked ahead, gently tugging on Lexa’s arm as they slowly approached the house.

Lexa let herself be led and was honestly a little grateful for it because she was having trouble thinking about anything other than the entirety of the girl in front of her.

The squeak of the front gate when it swung open, the creak of the steps as they made their way up the porch, the click of the lock. All of it echoed in Lexa’s ears as she got closer to Clarke, inch by inch.

She opened the door and moved to let Lexa in past her. The house was dark, but the porch light filtered in through the living room windows, bathing the walls in a dim glow.

Lexa stood in the middle of the hallway, watching Clarke turn around to gently close the front door. She rested both hands on the smooth wood for a moment, giving them pause and a second to breathe.

But Lexa didn’t want another moment. She didn’t want another second.

She covered the space between them in two broad steps. Clarke turned around in time for Lexa to crowd her against the door, her back hitting it with a light _thud_. Lexa leaned in close, close, _close_ until she could feel Clarke’s ragged breaths against her lips.

Lexa didn’t know where this rush was coming from—this absolute need—but the final gap between them wasn’t hers to cross. She held herself there, her eyes almost closed and her hands finding Clarke’s waist.

The first touch of their lips was just that. A touch. Slow and carefully and almost like a first kiss.

But then, it was anything but.

Mouths opened and the feeling was everywhere at once. It was a chain reaction, a series of explosions in controlled, chaotic order. Shoes thrown, jackets pulled, buttons popped, zippers pulled. Clothes trailing in their wake as they slowly made their way through the house.

Lexa’s foot almost caught on the first step of the staircase, making her pull away from Clarke in surprise. They laughed, breathy and quiet.

Lexa quickly assessed and took stock. Her jacket and tie were gone, her shirt was halfway unbuttoned and she still had her pants on. Clarke’s dress was undone and unzipped.

There was so much _skin_ and the promise of more made her vision swim.

Almost as if she had read her mind, Clarke took a slow step back and pushed her dress off her shoulders, letting it pool around her feet.

With a devious glint of teeth, she turned around and sauntered up the steps in just her bra and underwear. Lexa could only stare, frozen in place and absolutely transfixed by the sight above her. It wasn’t until Clarke turned the corner towards her room and out of sight that Lexa exploded into action and bounded up the stairs.

She walked into the room, careful in the darkness, only to be pushed against the wall by Clarke.

The kiss was dirty and all tongue and left Lexa absolutely aching.

Clarke suddenly pulled back, but before Lexa could even make a sound of protest, Clarke began undoing her belt.

Lexa was sure she wasn’t getting any oxygen to her brain. The clink of metal turned into a hard tug as Clarke pulled her belt out of its loops in one move. Both of them groaned as Clarke leaned in again to trail kisses down Lexa’s neck.

“Do you know how long I've wanted this?” Clarke whispered against her skin. Lexa gasped as Clarke bit her ear and undid the last of her shirt buttons. “Since I saw you sitting in my office. Your eyes closed and head leaned back against the wall. Since then.”

A full-on shudder ran through Lexa as the words sank in. Clarke’s hands slowly slid the shirt off her, letting it drop to the floor without a sound before slowly running them down her waist.

“My god,” she moaned as Clarke ghosted her fingers along the edge of her pants.

“No,” Clarke said, raising a corner of her lips, “just me.” At that, she pulled Lexa forward by a belt loop towards the bed and pushed her down onto the sheets.

“That joke’s getting old,” Lexa groaned as Clarke straddled her thighs. How she managed to find the words, she had no idea.

“Say something else then.” Clarke leaned on one hand to smooth her hair back.

The dim light from the window colored the room a dark blue, making the sight of Clarke on top of her almost dream-like.

Lexa’s heart thundered under her chest. She had never been so sober and intoxicated at the same time.

“Fuck,” she breathed. Clarke’s smile was slow and smug.

“That's better.”

Without another word, Clarke sat up and reached behind to unclasp her bra. Lexa watched as the straps fell down her shoulders and her mouth immediately dried up.

The thud of her heartbeat had long been forgotten in favor of the smooth expanse of skin now revealed to her. She stared, eyes wide and mouth open at the sight of Clarke kneeling over her, nearly naked and eyes impossibly dark.

Jesus _fucking_ christ.

Lexa pulled Clarke down to kiss her again, both of them moaning at the warmth of skin-to-skin.

Before she knew it, Clarke’s fingers were tugging at the buttons of her pants. Lexa lifted her hips and the last of her uniform was tossed somewhere across the room.

That spurred her into action and before their next breath, Lexa flipped them over, her hands coming to rest on either side of Clarke’s head.

Clarke looked surprised and a little dazed at the sudden turn of events, but her eyes darkened as she gazed up at Lexa.

“Sometimes I forget how strong you are,” she breathed, her voice more than sultry.

“Yeah?” Lexa was sure her mouth was disconnected from her brain.

“Mmm, yeah,” Clarke said as she traced soft fingers up Lexa’s sides.

Clarke’s touch was magnified. _Everywhere_. Maybe even electric, which would explain her inability to think, let alone tell her body what to do.

But she slowly began remembering things. Realizing that she had hands and a mouth that pulled sounds from Clarke’s that made Lexa’s blood rush south.

Her hands.

She started a slow trail down Clarke’s thigh, squeezing at the underside of her knee and pulling up to curl around her own hip.

Clarke’s mouth opened in a silent moan as Lexa ground down once, twice against her. Lexa could feel her warm and wet against the skin right above her underwear and the slow movements and slight friction made her _throb_.

“Clarke,” she groaned, letting her voice drop an octave. “What do you want?”

The question surprised Clarke, pulling a short, shuddering breath from her lips. Her eyes darkened to the point where no blue remained.

She kissed Lexa, deep and slow and _hot,_ and took one of her hands. She guided it down her body, ghosting Lexa’s fingertips across her skin before dipping them between her thighs.

Lexa gasped into Clarke’s mouth, her head spinning at how wet she was.

She tested two fingers, running them slow and _just_ deep enough for both of them to suck in a breath. It was intoxicating and everywhere and so warm and she was sure she wasn't breathing anymore.

“ _Lexa_ ,” Clarke groaned through gritted teeth. “Stop teasing.”

The sharp edge in her tone was enough to wake Lexa from her stupor, to pull a wicked smirk from her lips and an even more wicked press of her fingers into Clarke.

It was a blur of gasps and skin and soft sounds that made both of them ache. Clarke came with a breathless scream, her back arched high off the bed and Lexa’s lips latched onto the beating pulse on her neck. She guided her back down with slow fingers and wet kisses until Clarke melted boneless back onto her pillow.

Her eyes stayed closed as Lexa smirked victoriously at her.

“I’m—,” Clarke breathed, “I’m gonna need a second.”

“Well, I was going ask if you wanted a second _round_ , but—“

Clarke interrupted her by pulling her down for a kiss. Clarke lapped into her mouth slowly and pulled back even slower.

Lexa’s eyes glazed over again.

“Tone it down, corporal. I’m trying to regain motor control so I can make _you_ scream.”

The response in Lexa was almost immediate—a deep ache _pulsing_ through her.

Before she could even open her mouth to respond, Clarke flipped them over with more grace and ease than she ever would’ve expected.

“Now,” Clarke whispered, her lips ghosting over her lips, her jaw, down her neck. “Your turn.”

Lexa could feel the steady procession of warm breaths and wet kisses down her body. She gasped once, her head pushing back against the bed as Clarke bit and sucked, once, twice, three times.

When the slow trail reached the edge of her underwear, Lexa was dangerously close to passing out. But what was threatening to drive her out of her mind was the one thing anchoring her to that exact moment.

The soft, slow touches. The wet warmth.

“Clarke.”

“Yes?” she mouthed, her lips against the fabric.

“Please.”

There was a low chuckle, but it was cut off by a gasp that poured out of Lexa.

“Yes ma’am.”

//

She couldn’t move.

Correction, Lexa could move, but she was positive her insides had liquefied. No bone, no muscle, no shape. Just warmth and a low hum under every inch of her skin.

“You okay there?” Clarke asked, smug but sated enough to speak softly.

“Shhh.” Lexa kept her eyes closed. “I’m trying to regain motor control.”

Clarke laughed at Lexa’s use of her words. She tossed an arm over her head and sighed as she moved around, stretching what little she could.

“God, I’m already sore.”

“Well, three hours will do that to you.” Lexa couldn’t help but smile.

Clarke’s eyebrows raised once in agreement, a corner of her lips curling up.

“Can’t think of a better reason for it.”

“I think I’ll just count that as my workout and sleep in tomorrow.”

Clarke squinted at her, raising her head to rest it on a hand.

“Were you seriously considering going for your run the morning after sex?”

Lexa poured the rest of her energy into keeping a straight face.

“It’s a tad cold. I guess I could skip it.”

“Mmm yeah, four degrees Fahrenheit might be just a _little_ too chilly.”

At that, Lexa quirked up.

“Are you cold? Do you want me to go turn up the heater?” She moved to get out of bed, but Clarke’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm. Before Lexa could say anything, Clarke pulled her close, tucking her head under Lexa’s chin.

She burrowed in and kissed her once on the collarbone, humming contentedly.

“No heater. Just you.”

“What?”

“You,” Clarke repeated. “You’re easily the warmest person I’ve ever met.”

Lexa stilled, the words sinking in and repeating in her head.

“Your skin.” A slow hand traced down her back. “It’s always, _always_ warm. I was surprised that first time I treated your hand, but then with your knee and every time after. I loved it. You’ve always been like that.”

Clarke sighed again, as if sated and satisfied in every sense, and sank even deeper into the bed. Her breaths evened out within seconds and Lexa knew she had fallen asleep.

But Lexa was as far from sleep as she’d ever been. How could she with what Clarke had just shared with her?

Ice.

She had been sure she was made of ice. Incapable of being anything but cold and callous.

But maybe—

 _No,_ not maybe.

Without a doubt.

Without a doubt, Clarke had been the one to see that warmth. To show Lexa that it was in her and on her skin and who she really was.

Lexa had found it and felt it. All because of Clarke.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crazy to think how long it's been since...well, yeah. hope all you guys are doing well in this post-lexa world.
> 
> find me @ei8htballer on tumblr & twitter. yell & I will listen attentively.


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